


Savage Seas

by numbah34



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Pirates AU, assumed antagonist death that will probably be viewed as justified, broganes, flirtyrobot, kallura, pidgance, plance, vld fanfiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-07-27 17:49:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20050087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/numbah34/pseuds/numbah34
Summary: Lance found himself bored with day-to-day life of his family's farm and shop in a little seaside town. Though he dreamed of adventure, he never imagined getting swept away into a quest with a group of unconventional pirates, much less that he would find himself growing increasingly fascinated with their enigmatic captain.Katie had never imagined that her love for her family would put her at odds with the law, but as she set out on her journey to rescue them, a series of unexpected circumstances led to her being labeled as a pirate. Her mission must succeed in order to not only free her family, but also clear the names of her traveling companions and herself.





	1. Something Interesting

**Author's Note:**

> Get ready to buckle your swash! Here is my contribution, writing-wise, to the [Plance Mini Bang!](planceminibang.tumblr.com)
> 
> Special thanks to my artists, [flik98](flik98.tumblr.com) and [nadiarizavi](nadiarizavi.tumblr.com), for making some _gorgeous_ art for this work! I am so grateful for their time and effort in contributing such beautiful pieces to go with my story.  
Flik98 has been such a pleasure to collaborate with! She created a piece to go with chapter one, found [here](https://flik98.tumblr.com/post/186674945796/lance-looked-over-at-the-girl-noted-the-panic-in).  
I'm so glad to have gotten to work with nadiarizavi! She created a piece to go with chapter two, found [here](https://nadiarizavi.tumblr.com/post/186670756740/planceminibang-drawn-for-numbah34-for-their-fic).  
Please check out their art! It's fabulous!

**Chapter One: Something Interesting**

_In retrospect, _ Lance thought to himself later, _ perhaps wanting something interesting to happen today was a little too broad of a wish… _

——————————————————————————-

_ Just another day in Port Altea… _ Lance allowed himself a luxurious yawn that he offhandedly wondered might not be entirely related to the early hour. He finished his yawn with a roll and shake of his shoulders.

He made his way into town, pulling his nephew’s wagon behind him, wheeling a couple boxes of fresh produce for his family’s shop with him. It was nice of the little boy to let Lance borrow the wagon on days when the boxes or sacks would be uncomfortably heavy and cumbersome to carry; though, if he were honest, he felt a little childish using it. He had left a little early, as the wagon made it necessary to take the smoother road of the main thoroughfare into town instead of his usual shortcuts, and he wasn’t eager for many people to see him in such a state. He had his image to keep up, after all.

He closed his eyes and felt the cool ocean breeze ruffle his hair. If the weather held up, it would be a beautiful day to be outside. Perhaps, if he was able to finish his work quickly, he would have some time to go out behind the shop and do some target practice in the little shooting range his brothers and he had constructed. His mother wasn’t at all crazy about the idea of them practicing their marksmanship in town, but they had been quick to point out to her that they spent so much time at the shop, there wasn’t always time to practice when they got home. And, after all, it was she that had insisted that, whenever they came of age, they each carry a pistol and learn how to use it. “You need to have some way to defend yourself, just in case! What if pirates were to attack?” she would warn.

_ Pirates _ . Lance rolled his eyes a little. The odds of that kind of trouble visiting their town was very slim, he thought. Sure, Altea was a port town, but it was small and wasn’t particularly known for anything valuable that would interest potential marauders; at least, nothing of which _ he _ was aware. The most exciting things to happen in their town were the occasional escape of livestock that would comically wind up in the oddest of places, or when shop owners and patrons would argue about anything from the prices of merchandise to the very state of the shop’s premises.

Lance involuntarily glanced up at one of the shops in question as he passed; Merl’s brewery had been the subject of much discussion of late. He had rigged storage for his various barrels on the side of his shop, and it was the general consensus that this was a terrible idea, that the system was poorly constructed, and that something should be done before it became a real problem. Lance’s mother would comment at least once a week about the flimsy looking restraints keeping the barrels in place. “All it would take is for just one of those to break, and OH! What a _ mess _ that would be! Barrels, everywhere! And with the slope of the street…” she would frown and mutter. Some people had even tossed around the threat of getting the governor involved, but nothing had been done by anyone. Lance secretly wondered if no one did anything to address the issue because they were looking forward to the excitement of the potential disaster; if someone fixed it, then how would they entertain themselves? He sighed.

There wasn’t really a lot that happened in his seaport hometown. He could almost time his day down to the second: wake up with the sunrise, go out with his brothers and sisters to feed and water the livestock, eat breakfast, head to town with a couple sacks or boxes of new produce for his family’s shop, work in the shop, eat lunch, work some more, clean up and close down, and head home for the day. If he were lucky, then there might be a merchant or other traveller passing through who might need to stop and pick up supplies, or talk to his parents about trading wares. It was patrons such as these that would usually pepper their conversation with tales from their travels, and Lance would listen in as he restocked or cleaned, and imagine it was he who had visited such exotic places and met such interesting people.

As he came up to the front of the family shop, he paused and looked out toward the port. His parents had been fortunate enough to be able to situate their shop within sight of the harbor, which made for not only good business, but also excellent views. Every morning Lance would look out toward the harbor and gaze at the ships that were docked, as well as the ones approaching. Whenever his mother would comment on his habit, his father would joke, “He’s only waiting for his ship to come in! What do you think, son? Is it here yet?” Lance would laugh, and assure his father that he would let him know, and then proceed to daydream throughout the day about hopping aboard one of those ships. He gave his head a slight shake, and then went into the shop.

“Ah! Lance! There you are!” his mother came bustling forward, gave him a quick hug, then proceeded to help him unload the boxes from the wagon. “We were starting to wonder if you had been held up.”

“I’m still early, though,” he reminded her.

“Well, yes, that’s true,” she smiled. “Ah, before I forget, your father and I won’t be able to help close up shop this evening. Will you be alright closing by yourself, or should I see if Rachel can come and help you?”

“I think I can do it on my own,” he assured her, internalizing his frown as he remembered the last time his sister, Rachel, had been called out to help him restock and close up. She had already completed her chores back at home, so she was understandably cross when even more work was put on her plate. Lance had had to listen to her complaints almost the entire time that they worked.

“Oh, good,” she smiled. “You’ve become so responsible, son! We are so proud of you.”

“Mom, come on…” Lance rolled his eyes a little and felt his cheeks warm.

“Now, let’s hurry and get these things put away!”

——————————————————

*CRACK_ tink _*

The empty can Lance was using for target practice flew from its perch with a tinny, metallic pop. He walked to where it had fallen and picked it up, then looked around the little range, deciding where he could place it that might challenge his aim.

He had spent the better part of the morning unloading the fresh produce, adding it to the displays, and then marking and moving other items his parents wanted to clear out for quick sale. He had eaten his lunch quickly, and then decided to spend the rest of his break practicing his shooting. His aim had gotten pretty good, partly on account of his father putting a limit on how much ammunition he could use in a single practice (“Bullets still cost money, son, even if they are stocked in the shop.”). The attitude of “I can’t afford to miss” had done wonders to improve his accuracy.

Deciding he might give himself a little extra challenge, he stacked a couple hay bales on top of each other, then stacked a few more in front of them, side by side, to create a small window. He set the can upon the partially obscured bales, so that he could only just see it through the gap between the front bales. He backed up as far as he could and lined up his target.

As he was about to take the shot, he suddenly glanced over his shoulder, toward the back of the shop. Though he could have sworn that he had been being watched, he saw no one.

Lance shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. _ Probably just my imagination, _ he thought. He once again focused on his target, and readied his pistol. He calmly took a breath in, breathed out, and then fired.

*CRACK_ tink _*

The can flew off its hiding place as the bullet hit its mark. Lance whooped and jumped in the air once, pumping his fist. This was the first time he had hit that particular configuration, and he couldn’t contain his excitement! Just wait until he told his brothers and sisters…

He felt goosebumps prickle at the back of his neck. He turned his head quickly, just in time to see a tiny flutter of dark fabric retreating past the edge of the shop. Someone _ had _ been watching him, after all.

Lance felt disquieted about his mysterious audience only for a moment. “Well, whoever that was just got to see an _ amazing _ shot,” he preened, sauntering over to retrieve his practice materials. “It’s nice to know I have a witness apart from myself!”

He decided it was best to end target practice on a high note, so he finished cleaning up after himself and headed back in to work.

As Lance came back into the shop, he heard his father talking with some customers. He became excited as he realized he didn’t recognize the voices; new customers! He quickly picked up some items to restock, and made his way into the storefront. He wondered what kind of things these travelers would drop into their conversation?

“What brings you folks in today? It’s not often we see new faces around here.”

Lance looked toward the counter as he made his way to the shelves. His father stood at the counter, smiling congenially at two cloaked strangers. The shorter of the two glanced toward the door, then removed his hood, revealing a shock of black hair, and spoke first.

“We’re passing through on a voyage, and were running low on supplies.”

There was almost a beat of silence as Lance’s father waited for the man to say something more. When nothing more was added, he nodded his head. “Well, I hope we can be of some help, then! What is it you’re looking for that we can help you find?”

The larger of the two spoke up now, pushing his hood back as well. “I’ve heard that the fruit- _ especially _ the mangos- are amazing from this region! They wouldn’t happen to be in season, would they?” he asked hopefully. “I mean, we need to restock a lot of our ingredients, too. But I’m looking for fresh produce in particular.”

“Ah, you’re in luck, then! I can personally attest to the quality of the fruits and vegetables we have; we grow them on our own farm!” Lance’s father grinned proudly. “I’ve never received even one complaint.”

“Alright! …and the mangoes?”

Lance could almost hear the wink in his father’s voice. “Twice lucky in one day, friend. Mangoes are in season, and we just brought a crate of freshly picked this morning.”

The man seemed to radiate joy. “That’s great!” He turned to the shorter man. “Isn’t that great?!” He turned his head and shouted toward the shelves, “Pidge! They have the mangoes!”

Lance heard a clattering sound as somebody dropped something a few feet away from the shelf he was restocking. He turned his head to see a smaller cloaked figure- a child?- kneeling down to pick up several, thankfully unbroken, jars of peanut butter. As he set his box down, he caught a glimpse of the black-haired man elbowing the other, who was rubbing the back of his neck meekly. Lance turned to help the customer on the floor.

“Here, let me help you pick those up,” he started, kneeling down and reaching for one of the jars as the smaller person seemed to freeze. Slowly, the figure raised their hooded head until Lance could just see a set of eyes staring back at him through long lashes. He found himself frozen as well, transfixed by the striking gaze that now held his.

“Uh,” he stammered, “sorry, um, let me…” He took a breath, taking in the soft features of the face that now looked at him. “You’re a-”

Before he could finish, the cloaked girl before him scooped up the three jars she had dropped, stood up, and walked briskly toward the counter. She set them down in front of her apparent companions, looked up at the bigger man and simply said, “These, too.” Then she turned and walked out of the store.

Lance stared after her, blinking.

——————————————————————————

_ What a day… _ Lance thought to himself, stretching his arms overhead. He felt his back pop, and he let out a sigh. He had just finished cleaning up, restocking, and taking inventory of what goods were running low, and was getting ready to lock up for the night. He grabbed his keys and headed for the back door.

As he finished locking the back, he glanced his pistol and holster still hanging on the hook next to the door. He wondered if he should even bother taking it with him; it would be just one more thing to carry. Not that he had much he was taking back with him; his parents had taken his nephew’s wagon back with them when they had left, so he didn’t really have anything to haul home. He could just imagine his mother giving him the fisheye when she saw that he hadn’t brought it with him, though.

“As if anything is ever going to happen,” he muttered to himself, picking up the firearm and slinging the holster over his shoulder. Fastening it in place, he smiled to himself, remembering his target practice at lunch time. “But I guess it wouldn’t hurt to have with me, anyway.”

As he walked to the front, he felt his stomach rumble. He looked at the clock, and realized it was nearly dinner time. Thinking about how long it would take him to walk back to the farm, he grabbed a small knapsack and put in a couple apples and a small package of cookies, and made a mental note to log the goods he had taken later. He stepped outside, locked the door, and made his way back up the road.

He pulled an apple out of his knapsack and bit into it, enjoying the crisp snap almost as much as the tart sweetness. He chewed slowly as he ambled along at a leisurely pace. The main street, for all its bustle and noise most of the day, was usually this quiet around dusk. Children had been called in for supper, shopkeepers were finished closing for the day, and a calm settled on the town that was not unlike what Lance experienced during his early morning trek.

Feeling the last rays of sunlight, he reached the top of the street’s incline where the road split off into different directions, some headed towards the countryside, some to homes closer by. He turned to look back toward the ocean. This was one of Lance’s favorite parts about his turn to close up shop; he could enjoy an excellent view of the sunset on the ocean. He stood still, chewing his apple thoughtfully, taking in the brilliant colors of the sky.

The sunset blended the sky and ocean together, everything in sight awash in deep shades of red, orange, and yellow. As the colors combined, the resulting hue brought to Lance’s mind a certain set of eyes he had first glimpsed just earlier that afternoon.

It had only been a moment, but somehow the memory of those eyes was etched into his mind. He didn’t know her name, or even remember what one of her companions had called her, and he was filled with questions; questions that would, in all likelihood, remain forever unanswered. He swallowed his most recent bite of apple, and let out a small sigh. He loved his family, and his home, but there was a part of him he could not deny that longed for something apart from the status quo; if he was honest, every time he listened to the stories the travelers would tell, he would secretly hope for an adventure of his own.

“It doesn’t have to be much…” he muttered, swallowing the last bite of his apple. “I just wish something interesting would happen.”

He cast one more glance over his shoulder at the darkening sunset as he turned to take the road toward his home.

_THUMP! _

Lance gasped and toppled backwards as a petite body slammed into him, knocking them both to the ground. He instinctively wrapped his arms around the person as they fell, breaking their fall.

“Oh my gosh! I’m sorry!” a mildly panicked voice exclaimed.

Lance responded with a guttural grunting sound, suddenly more aware of how hard the road was.

“Um… you can let go now, I’m okay,” the decidedly feminine voice assured him, squirming a little in his arms. Lance, not realizing he had still been holding onto her, let go. She picked herself up, then offered a hand. “Here, let me help you up.”

“Thanks,” he groaned, taking the hand held out in front of him. He looked up, smiling, and found himself staring into the same sunset-colored eyes that had so fascinated him earlier that day. He blinked once, not completely sure of whether or not she was actually standing there when he had been thinking of her just moments ago. “You’re the one from the shop! Earlier!” he exclaimed, standing up. “With all the peanut butter!”

“Oh! Um… yes.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Well, I should… uh… I have to…” she looked down, suddenly aware of her hand still clasping that of the boy in front of her. She quickly pulled it away as a faint shout arose from the direction she had looked a moment previous. “I have to go! Sorry, again!” With that, she turned and started running down the main thoroughfare.

Lance, still rooted to the spot, stared after her speechlessly. The shouting grew louder, and he turned his eyes in its direction. As he looked, something on the ground caught his eye. He crouched down and picked up a small black pouch.

“Hmm… this isn’t mine,” he said, turning it over in his hands. “Oh, no!” The realization hit him almost as hard as the pouch’s apparent owner had just minutes before. Without a second thought, he turned back toward the direction he had come and ran to catch up to the girl. He caught sight of her running just ahead of him, and put on a burst of speed, calling out to her. “Wait! Miss, wait!”

The girl looked back at him, slowing her pace a little, curiosity alight in her startled expression. Lance hurried along, waving the pouch over his head. The girl gasped and stopped running, waiting for him.

“You… dropped this,” he panted, holding out the pouch.

“Oh, thank you!” she exclaimed, reaching for the bag. “You have no idea-”

“_There! There they are! _” A shout echoed from the top of the street, loud and clear. Lance and the girl both whipped their heads around to see a group of men glaring at them and advancing at a quick pace.

Lance looked over at the girl, noted the panic in her face, and quickly put two and two together. He grabbed her hand and tugged her down the road, running. “Come on!” he said, darting between buildings with the practiced ease of someone who had spent his life exploring the town. He didn’t know why that group of men was chasing this girl, but he felt the sudden, inexplicable urge to protect her and help her escape.

“This way!” he said, leading her through a maze of walkways between shops and storehouses. He paused in a particularly shadowy alcove, pulling the girl into the shadows. As they quietly tried to catch their breath, he listened for the sounds of their pursuers. He heard distant shouting, but he couldn’t tell where exactly it was coming from. He glanced down at the girl, who also seemed to be listening. Her eyes met his, and she fixed him with a steady gaze. He bit his lip thoughtfully. “Are you trying to get to the harbor? Back to your ship?” he whispered.

She nodded in reply. He quietly exhaled. “We’re running out of places that will provide cover on this side of the street, and to get to the docks we’ll have to go out on the main road. I can’t tell where the people who were following you are, but we can’t stay here. That means we’ll have to make a break for it.” He turned his head to look down their current route. “We can keep going this way until we reach that building there,” he pointed to the brewery, “but then we’ll have to go back out in the open.” He met her gaze again, her eyes now resolute. Once again, she nodded.

Without another word, Lance led her on along the backs of the shops. They moved as quietly as they could, ducking into shadows and pausing whenever the sounds of the mob seemed close by. They made it to Merl’s brewery, and the two of them eased their way through the gap between the brewery and the neighboring shop, made narrow by the makeshift barrel storage. The wood of the barrels, or perhaps the ropes holding them up, creaked eerily as they inched along.

Both Lance and the girl breathed a sigh of relief as they made it to the end of the cramped corridor. Lance peered around the edges of the shops, trying to catch a glimpse of the pursuers.

“I don’t see anyone close by,” he whispered, pulling his head back in.

“I don’t hear anything, either,” she whispered back, her brow wrinkled in concern.

“Do you think they gave up?” Lance asked hopefully.

She shook her head. “Not likely.”

“Well… do you want to make a break for it?”

The girl nodded. “Let’s go.”

The two of them darted out onto the road, running towards the harbor. They had not made it but a few yards when a small group of men came running towards them, emerging from the sides of the buildings just ahead of them.

“Oh, no!” Lance skidded as he turned back, grabbing the girl’s hand and starting to lead her back the other way. They had only taken a few steps when they saw a second group of men coming towards them from the other direction.

They stopped in their tracks, looking about wildly. “We’re surrounded,” the girl said, looking up at Lance. “I’m sorry…”

Lance looked at both groups of men advancing on either side of them, growing ever closer. What could he do? He reached up and wrapped his hand around the handle of his pistol; maybe the sound alone would be enough to scare them away? He shook his head. No, no, there had to be a better idea, one that didn’t involve him making empty threats. _ What a disaster… _he thought.

“No, wait! That’s it! We need a disaster!” he exclaimed, looking excitedly at the girl.

“What?!” she gave him a questioning look that swiftly changed to one of alarm as she saw his hand at his holster.

Without another thought, Lance pulled his pistol from it’s holster and took quick aim. The shot rang out, and both groups of men stopped, startled by the sound of gunfire. A murmur went up as everyone looked around, trying to figure out where the boy had been aiming.

An ominous snapping sound drew everyone’s attention to the brewery. A barrel came crashing down, followed by another, and another, until every barrel was cascading out into the street, rolling and ploughing into whoever was unfortunate enough to be in their way.

The street was in an uproar. The men were shouting and dodging around, trying to avoid being flattened or tripped by the barrels that, thanks to the slope of the street, were continuing to tumble about in disarray.

Lance, however, had pulled the girl onward, taking advantage of the distracting commotion to make good on their escape.They flew down the road, occasionally dodging a barrel that had managed to pick up enough momentum to match their speed. The shouting and confusion grew more distant, and soon, the docks and various ships in the harbor loomed into sight.

The girl took the lead and ran on toward a small ship. Lance could just recognize the two men he had seen earlier at the shop, looking both worried and ready to cast off.

The dark-haired one caught sight of the girl, now hurtling down the dock. “Did you find it?” he called, as he and the bigger man picked up what looked like a pile of ropes and tossed them over the side. The ropes unfurled into a ladder, the end coming down just far enough to graze the surface of the water.

“Yes!” She replied. “But we have company! Make ready to sail!”

The two men both nodded, shouted “Aye, aye!” and ran out of sight. The girl slowed and stopped running near the edge of the dock, getting ready to leap. She turned to Lance, who had stopped just behind her.

“Thank you,” she smiled, sincerely. “You don’t know how much you’ve helped me.”

Lance smiled back and only nodded, for once at a loss for what to say. The girl turned toward the boat, bracing herself to jump, then suddenly stopped and looked back at him.

“You know… you could come with us,” she offered. “I know it’s sudden, and I’m really very sorry, but… those people. The ones chasing us, they… they had to have seen you. Someone might have even recognized you, and now that you’ve been seen with me, helping me…” she swallowed, taking in his half-shocked, half-confused expression. “I think you probably should. Come with us, that is. I fear I’ve caused you a great deal of trouble; your penalty if you stay here might be… severe.”

“Why?” he asked, noting the chagrined look on her face, and still trying to process this sudden and unexpected invitation.

“I can’t say for certain if this town is the same, but most places tend to consider helping a pirate an act of piracy itself.” She gave him a strained smile. “Again, I’m _ really _ sorry.”

“What…?” Lance’s insides froze. Pirates…?

“Anchor’s aweigh!” A voice called from the ship as it started to slowly pull away from the dock. “You’ve got to hurry, Pidge!"

“I know this is very rushed, but you’ll need to decide soon.” She turned towards the boat. “Those barrels slowed them down, but it won’t hold them for long. They’ll probably be here any moment.”

With that, she ran at the boat and took a flying leap, her dark cloak billowing out behind her. Lance sucked in his breath as she caught the rope ladder her crew mates had left for her and clambered up into the ship.

As if on cue, an angry voice shouted “STOP!”, closer than Lance would have anticipated.

As though being driven by a force he could not explain, he sprinted toward the boat and hurled himself over the water. He smacked into the broad side of the ship, but still managed to grasp the rope before tumbling into the churning water below. He quickly scaled the wall and drug himself over the side, gasping for breath as he hit the deck, more from shock than exertion. He reached his hands up and rubbed his eyes, not convinced this wasn’t all some horribly realistic dream.

Feeling the ship pick up speed as the sails caught the wind, Lance chanced opening his eyes. In the low light of dusk, he recognized the petite form standing over him. She extended her hand, and helped him stand up. He found himself impressed with the firmness of her grip.

“While I wish I could say it under better circumstances, welcome aboard, er…”

“Lance,” he answered. “I’m Lance.”

She nodded. “Right. Welcome aboard the Leonessa Verde, Lance.” She reached up and pulled her cloak off. “My name is Captain Katie Holt, but most around here just call me Pidge.”


	2. Pidge

**Chapter Two:** ** Pidge**

_ It was 6 months ago… _ The thought suddenly occurred to her as she jotted down a list of supplies they needed to find in town, and grabbed the photograph of the house she needed to locate. Keith and Hunk were preparing to dock their ship in the harbor of a small, quiet-looking town that, to the outside observer, might seem like nothing special. The information they had obtained, however, told a different story.

She and her companions had been traveling for 6 months now, a goal in mind and only a handful of clues to help them on their way. At three people, their crew was small, and as such, was generally able to escape notice and go about their business. Hopefully, this stop would be no different, even though they were seeking more than just information this time.

As they had walked from the docks into town, Pidge thought about the notice she had received just 7 months ago. The news had set their journey in motion; her family- her father, her mother, even her older brother- were missing. Taken. “Presumed dead,” the officer had gently told her as she had read over the letter, hand to her mouth, tears silently streaming down her face.

“But why?” she had asked. “Why?” was a question that drove her. Curious by nature, Pidge was always asking why. This time, however, she had a bit more of a personal stake in the answer.

She had spent the next month at her family’s house, looking for clues. The dean of her college had not hesitated to give her some time for bereavement.  _ Not that it really mattered in the end… _ she thought wryly. She had gone through her father’s well-organized notes and files, trying to find some idea of where they had been going, what they had been looking for this time,  _ something _ …

The professors Holt were linguists, and had developed something of a reputation for their extensive knowledge of not only current languages, but also the languages of ancient civilizations. They would often take research trips, traveling to find ruins of cities long gone, following clues left in various texts they had come across, making connections between the different dialects. Their etymological discoveries often found them far afield, which was why Pidge did not accompany them more frequently; the highest priority, both her mother and father agreed, was finishing her education.

“Don’t worry, Katie,” her father would reassure her, eyes alight with encouragement, “we’re not going to run out of things to discover or places to explore any time soon.”

Her brother, Matt, had gone with her parents on this trip, though more often than not his job at the university prohibited him from traveling with them. “This trip must have been something important if Matt was able to take time off…” she muttered to herself, poring over the most recent folios.

A month after she had started her search, a letter was delivered to her in her dorm. “From my parents,” she breathed, hands trembling as she stared at her mother’s neat handwriting on the envelope. How long ago had this been sent?

She had torn it open, read through it once, then immediately packed a bag. She had gone back to her family’s house to pick up a few things, a journal that had seemed innocuous at first, but held more information than she could have ever imagined… about a place she had only ever imagined.

This was it. She was going to find her family.

_ They’re alright. They have to be. _ She trudged up the road from the docks, glaring at their “shopping list” with grim determination, only vaguely aware of Hunk’s voice, excitedly chattering away about mangoes, or something. She would have kept walking, lost in her own thoughts, if he hadn’t placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Hey, Pidge, wait. This is the place,” he pointed to a shop on their left as the three of them stopped walking. “Didn’t you hear me before?”

“Oh, no, sorry, I was lost in thought,” she started to apologize, then stopped, arching an eyebrow at him. “Did you hear  _ me _ when I said we shouldn’t use names in town?” She glanced around, checking to see if anyone had noticed. “We can’t afford to draw attention.”

“Because three people in dark cloaks doesn’t look suspicious at all,” Hunk retorted dryly.

“We aren’t the only ones; besides, this is how Keith would normally dress.”

“Hey,” Keith frowned, crossing his arms. “First, leave me out of this. Second, arguing outside a shop is going to attract more attention than our clothing. Let’s just go inside.”

“You two go on, I’m going to look around a little and get my bearings.” She pulled a photograph from her pocket and gave it a little wave as if in explanation, and then handed them the supply list. “I’ll come inside in a moment.”

The two nodded, and walked inside the shop. Pidge looked back down at the photograph, studying the stylized elevation of the house, the shape of the trees, the color and pattern of the brick wall surrounding the property. She looked up the road, and saw that the main thoroughfare seemed to split at the apex of the moderate incline that led down to the docks. One of the roads at the fork seemed to lead out to the countryside, while she could see the rooftops of some houses in the direction of a second road.

“That’s probably it,” she said quietly to herself. After they took the supplies back to the ship, she could take a casual stroll down that road and locate the house in the picture, and then-

*CRACK _ tink _ *

The sound of gunfire jolted her out of her thoughts and made her jump. Her head whipped from side to side; where was that coming from?

She noticed no one else from the town seemed startled, going about their business as if this was just another sound they had come to expect in the middle of the day. As Pidge considered this, another gunshot rang out. She turned her head and looked toward the shop. Was it coming from there? Surely not inside…

She walked over to the building, then quietly crept around the side, following the wall to the back of the shop. She crouched behind a small stack of barrels and peered into the backyard.

A young man stood a short distance from where she hid, his back to her as he set a beaten-up tin can on top of a few bales of hay. He then backed several paces away from his supposed target, and brought the pistol he had been holding in his other hand level. He took aim, and fired.

*CRACK _ tink _ *

The can flew from its perch, and the boy gave a satisfied nod. He holstered his pistol, and seemed to look appraisingly at the target area before walking back over to it. Pidge watched with great curiosity as he started shifting hay bales around, stacking them, making sure to leave a small opening between two stacks. As he placed the can on the other side of the opening, she couldn’t help but feel a little excited. Would he be able to hit his mark? Had he done this before? How long had he been-

The young man turned around. Katie’s brain seemed to pause as she took in his appearance while he walked to a new spot from which to shoot.

Back at school, the other girls used to giggle and talk about which of their professors or male classmates were attractive. Katie would listen (out of scientific fascination, she told herself), but never really had anything to contribute to the conversation. Now, though…

She felt a slight stirring in her gut as she gazed at him. Not uncomfortable, but unfamiliar; she had a feeling there was something different about this young man. His eyes caught the light and she saw a sparkle of blue, not unlike the color of the sea she had spent her life around. His face held a pleasant, relaxed smile that belied the concentration and focus he was employing as he aimed at the new target. A bead of sweat trickled down the tanned skin of his face.

Without warning, he suddenly turned his head and looked over his shoulder toward her hiding place. Pidge reacted just in time, crouching down so that he just missed seeing her.  _ Sometimes _ , she thought,  _ it’s good to be small _ .

He shrugged, then trained his eyes back on his target. Pidge felt her breath catch as he fired.

*CRACK _ tink _ *

Pidge almost cheered from excitement as the can flew from its spot, but managed to stop herself. As the boy celebrated his achievement, she made the decision to sneak away.  _ I  _ ** _do_ ** _ need to make sure Hunk isn’t going overboard in there, _ she thought as she turned and crept away, feeling the hem of her cloak brush against the barrels in her retreat.

——————————————————————————————

“Of course,” Pidge muttered to herself as she bustled up the road, still aware of the heat in her cheeks and ear tips that had nothing to do with the pace she was keeping on her ‘casual stroll.’ “Of course he works there. Why would he be firing a gun in a target range outside a store if he didn’t also work at that store?”

When she had gone in to check on her friends’ progress, she had caught sight of something very exciting: a row of shelves with jars of various nut butters. She hadn’t bothered to put peanut butter on the list, as they hadn’t been able to find any at the other ports they had visited. She had excused herself from Hunk and Keith as the shop owner had come over to speak with them, and was in the process of deciding how many jars they should get (or how many she could fit in her arms) when Hunk hollered her name.

That had caught her by surprise, enough so that she had dropped the three jars she had been holding. They had agreed as they approached the town that they wouldn’t refer to each other by name, or even nickname, in case someone recognized them. Thankfully, the shop owner hadn’t seemed to react.

She was just kneeling down to pick up the thankfully intact jars of peanut butter, when suddenly, there he was.

Looking at her, in the eyes.

She was caught, momentarily paralyzed, in the intense focus of the same blue eyes she had spied just earlier.

Had he recognized her? Had he figured out who, or even what, she was? He had started to say something, but panic had set in at that point, and Pidge had known that she needed to get out of there. It was essential that they keep a low profile, and that no one realize there were pirates in their town.

Reaching the crest of the main street, Pidge stopped, partly to catch her breath, and partly to get her bearings as to which of the roads forking from the main she should take. The road she had decided on earlier still seemed the most likely. She paused to listen, focusing on the direction from which she had hurried. She didn’t hear shouting or any sort of commotion, which was a good sign. She sighed with relief. She hadn’t been recognized.

She began walking down the tree-lined road, in what she hoped was a casual, nonchalant pace, pulling the picture from where it lay tucked inside her pocket. She strolled along, glancing at the picture each time she approached a house. She began to wonder if she had perhaps picked the wrong road, when a familiar brick pattern seemed to emerge from the road’s tree line.

“Oh,” she murmured, a little shocked. The photograph had not nearly captured the true scope of the house and its property. Once again, she looked down at the photo, then back up. This was definitely the place. She pocketed the photo and continued her walk, giving the house an interested look, as though she were merely a tourist.

_ Looks like there’s a posted guard at the front gate entrance; two of them. They look kind of bored… _ She walked past the guards, not turning her head in their direction.  _ No need to call attention to myself. Let’s see about back here… _

Pidge walked a little further, then ducked into the trees when she was just out of sight of the gate. She walked back toward the brick wall, then followed the wall back towards the house, studying every tree she passed until she found what she was looking for: a nice, sturdy tree with a heavy-looking branch that reached over the side of the wall.  _ Ha _ , she thought, grinning at her find. She had brought her small grappling hook, but if she could find a less noticeable way to get inside the fence, she would rather use that.

She settled herself on the ground to wait.  _ Around dinnertime; that’s when I’ll go _ , she thought.  _ If the household is distracted, I should be able to make it in and out. No problem. _

——————————————————————————————————

It had been, as it turned out, a problem.

Everything had been going fine; she had made it into the house, the servants hadn’t even noticed her as they were setting up for dinner, and the family had been gathered elsewhere. Pidge had made it into the study and managed to find exactly what she had come for, without having to disturb anything. By all accounts, this was looking to be the smoothest operation she had carried out so far!

And it would have been…  _ if that girl hadn’t walked in right at that moment! _ Pidge thought as she ran through the courtyard, black pouch clutched in one hand, her other hand fumbling for her grappling hook.

There was no time to try and leave the way she came in, and there was no way she would make it past two guards at the front gate. She banked a sharp left, swinging her hook and releasing it towards the top of the wall. Her practiced motion landed solidly, and she clambered up the wall, swinging her legs over the side and pulling her rope up and detaching the hook as she reached the top. She carefully lowered herself as far as her arms could reach, then braced herself as she dropped the rest of the way to the ground, tucking and rolling as her feet hit the grass. She sprang up and began running for the road.

Emerging from the trees as far away as she could get from where the gate guards stood, she sprinted as fast as she could up the road.  _ With any luck, Hunk and Keith will have the ship ready to sail _ , she thought. She seemed to have a fair lead on those chasing her, but only just. Nearing the convergence of the roads at the main thoroughfare, she chanced a quick glance behind her to see how far away her pursuers were.

The next thing she knew, she was falling. Falling, after having slammed into something, or rather, someone, if the firm arms wrapped around her were any indication…

———————————————————————————————————-

_ …And there he was _ , she thought, feeling almost dazed at the turn of events that led her to where she now stood, on the deck of their ship, trying to look confident as she smiled up at the boy.  _ And here he is. On my ship. _

“Captain… Pidge?” He sounded almost as dazed as she felt. Lance looked around, rubbing the back of his neck. “And you’re pirates?  _ Actual _ pirates?”

“Well, as far as most towns we’ve made port in are concerned, yes.” Pidge frowned. “I mean, we didn’t start out trying to be pirates, and it’s not something we were ever aiming for, and my mother would be horrified, although Dad might find it humorous…”

“Pidge. Please. You’re rambling.” The big man Lance had first seen that morning at the shop stepped over. “Hi, I’m Hunk, ship’s cook and captain’s best friend, and the voice of reason,” he glanced meaningfully at Pidge, who glared at him, “always.” He smiled and raised a hand in greeting.

“Lance,” he put his hand out almost automatically to shake Hunk’s hand, then looked at him with a mix of seriousness and wonder. “We’re on a pirate ship. I’m… on a pirate ship.”

“Sooo it would seem…” Hunk shook Lance’s hand as he slowly raised an eyebrow and looked over at Pidge. “Is he alright? Did he hit his head when he jumped onto the ship?”

“It’s probably just shock,” Pidge tried to smile reassuringly. “I’m guessing when he got up this morning he had no intentions of running away to sea.”

“Good guess,” Lance replied lightly, sinking down to sit on the deck. “Oh man… What am I going to do?” he pressed his face into his hands, rubbing his forehead. He looked up suddenly in mild panic. “Is my family going to be alright? They won’t get in trouble, will they?”

“I would think they should be fine; they’re not the ones who helped pirates,” Pidge said, looking away. She fiddled with her hands. “Again, I’m really sorry.”

Lance breathed a sigh of relief, and then seemed to consider. “Why  _ were _ those men after you, anyway?”

“…I took something,” Pidge replied, looking first at her hands, then up into his eyes, her own eyes flashing defiantly. “But there was no other way! It’s not like they would’ve just given me something that valuable! And without it…” she looked away before finishing quietly, “my family is lost.”

“Your family?”

“They were taken. By pirates.” Her expression hardened and her jaw set. She met Lance’s eyes again as Hunk reached out a hand and gripped her shoulder supportively. “My parents were on the brink of a major discovery involving some of their research. My older brother had gone with them on their expedition. Keith,” she nodded in the direction of the dark-haired man now steering the ship, “also had family on their ship; his brother was serving as their helmsman.

“From the information we’ve been able to gather, pirates intercepted and overtook their vessel after rumor got out about what they were seeking. The crew was captured. But, we know where they’re headed, and we’re trying to beat them there. If we don’t…” Pidge swallowed, trying to maintain her composure as a long-held anxiety cracked her confident facade. “We might not see our families again.”

“We are going to find them.”    


All three heads whipped to look at Keith, who was striding toward them. His declaration was sure and almost insistent. He smiled at Pidge. “You’ve gotten the mapstone. All we have left to find is the logbook.”

“Mapstone? Logbook?” Lance’s puzzlement was evident on his face.

Pidge turned back to Lance. “They’re items- artifacts- that are the only way to locate the place we’re ultimately trying to find. You know… to explain, it might be easier to show you,” she considered, her eyes now gleaming with excitement. “Keith, would you mind retrieving the other artifacts?”

Keith nodded and quickly disappeared below deck.

“My parents are linguistics professors, specializing in ancient languages and cultures. Ever since I can remember, they- my dad in particular- have been fascinated with tales about a civilization long thought to only be legend. But when I was looking through their study after they went missing, I found their notes and plans and evidence pointing to that lost civilization as their expedition’s goal. Apparently, they uncovered a way to find it!”

“What were they trying to find?” Lance felt on the edge of his proverbial seat, captivated by Pidge’s story. She grinned with the air of a performer who knows they have the full attention of their audience.

“Tell me, Lance; how much do you know about the legendary city of Torvlon?”

Before he could answer, before she could enjoy the look of surprise on his face, before Hunk could even roll his eyes at how much his friend was reveling in her educational theatrics, a distressed shout from below deck interrupted them.


	3. Stowaways

**Chapter 3:** ** Stowaways**

_ Moments previous… _

Keith descended the stairs, heading towards the crew’s quarters. While Pidge kept her parents’ journal in the captain’s cabin, she had decided it would be safer to keep the artifacts with Keith and Hunk. Keith thought it a smart idea, as someone trying to find valuable items would likely think to check the captain’s quarters first before checking with the crew. They had worked too hard, come too close to their goal, to risk losing any of the items.

Picking up the satchel containing the artifacts, he turned to head back. As he passed the cargo hold, Keith paused, his sharp ears picking up an unusual sound. Focusing on the doorway, he listened to see if he heard it again. Sure enough, a light scuffling, accompanied by a quiet thump, emerged from the room.

Keith’s eyes narrowed. He subconsciously reached for the dagger attached to his belt, and placed his hand on the handle. He crept into the room, quickly scanning for whatever made the sound. It might have been a rodent, it might have been something shifting as the boat made its way over the water, but the hairs prickling on the back of his neck made him think otherwise. It felt like he was being watched.

“Is there someone down here?” he asked, his eyes continuing to sweep across the room for any sign of movement.

To be honest, Keith had not counted on anyone actually answering him.

“Oh! Hello, there!” Keith startled as an older gentleman popped up from behind a few barrels to his right. The man smiled congenially, as though he were receiving an expected visit from an old friend.

Almost too taken aback to speak, Keith’s hand closed around the hilt of his blade, choosing to keep it sheathed for the time being as he formed a response. “Um… hi,” he managed. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?”

“Ah, yes… the age-old question!” The man brushed a loose bit of ginger hair off his forehead, and then settled into twirling the end of his impressive mustache. “Who am I? And, for that matter, who are you? Are we merely projections of our ideas of who we ought to be, based on pre-conceived societal notions and expectations, or perhaps something more that we have not even begun to comprehend? I can tell you, I have often found myself wondering about those very things in the quiet of the evening, just before I am overtaken by sleep.”

Keith wondered if he looked as confused as he was feeling. “Um… what?”

“What, indeed! That was your other question, wasn’t it? But how to answer; what are any of us doing here, really? What is our purpose, or does such a thing exist? And if we do not, in fact, have a definite purpose, then what does it all mean? I may lie awake tonight thinking over that one…”

Keith raised an eyebrow, responding questioningly to the man’s responses. He was beginning to think this stowaway was not of sound mind.

“In any case, how nice of you to inquire!” Suddenly, the man’s expression became much more serious. “But I’m not really the one you should be worried about.”

The sound of rushing footsteps behind him nearly caught Keith by surprise; in an instant, he unsheathed his dagger and turned to counter the impending blow. The dagger notched into the wooden staff of his hooded assailant, whose reaction showed they had not expected him to strike back so quickly.

Hearing someone approach from behind him, Keith forcefully pushed his initial attacker back and delivered a roundhouse kick to the one behind him. He heard the ginger-haired man gasp as the kick landed, sending him flying into the barrels. He turned just as the mysterious foe was coming at him again, aiming their staff for his ankles. Keith leapt with ease over the swing, landing a push kick squarely in their chest. The hooded figure stumbled back, then righted themselves, and charged him again, head-on.

Keith countered every strike from the assailant, mildly impressed in spite of himself at their ability. They continued to scuffle, until Keith caught an opening in the other’s defense. He feinted left with his dagger, and as the figure went to block, jabbed his fist into their stomach. They gasped and doubled over in surprise, and Keith seized the opportunity to grab the staff and use it to push them to the wall.

As the assailant’s back thumped against the wall, their hands flew out in front of them in a last effort to ward off any impending attack from Keith. Keith, however, grabbed their wrists and quickly pinned them to the wall with one of his hands, his other whipping the dagger up to the figure’s neck.

Taken aback by the swiftness of Keith’s action and the dagger now uncomfortably close to their jugular, the figure let out a distressed shout.

A distressed, and decidedly feminine, shout.

Keith blinked. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but… Carefully, he moved the dagger from the assailant’s throat, and reached up to pull their hood off. Wisps of light hair fluttered upwards before settling around the face in front of him, and he was met with the steely gaze of a young woman. Surprised as he was, he judiciously did not lower his guard; she had already proven herself a worthy and formidable opponent.

“Keith? Buddy? You all right down here?” Hunk’s voice cut through the tension in the room. He walked through the doorway, stopping in his tracks upon sight of the ginger-haired man groaning atop the toppled barrels, and taking in the strange scene of his crew mate grappling with a strange young woman. “Whoa, whoa! What’s… what’s going on here?”

“We’ve got stowaways,” Keith grunted, not turning his attention from his opponent. 

“Stowaways?” Lance’s voice joined the conversation just outside the doorway, “Hey, am I a stowaway, too?”

“No, see, you were invited onto the ship,” Hunk explained, “but these two were hiding on the ship.”

“Oh; that’s good, I guess.”

“I could use a little help here,” Keith interjected. He had lowered the woman’s arms, keeping a tight hold on her wrists to try and discourage any further resistance.

“Oh, right,” Hunk answered, walking a little further into the room. He was followed by Lance, who stopped in the doorway.

Lance glanced over at Keith and the woman and did a double take. “Allura?!”

The woman, Allura, tore her eyes away from Keith and stared incredulously at Lance. “Lance?!”

“What are you doing here?” Their voices exclaimed at the same time.

“You know each other?” Keith sounded dubious.

“Yeah,” Lance looked at Keith, “she’s the governor’s daughter in Port Altea! We kind of grew up together. Well, I mean, we  _ knew _ each other, anyway.”

“Childhood friends is, I think, what you’re trying to say.” Allura finished. She gave her wrists a little tug, drawing Keith’s attention back to her. “Listen, this is rather uncomfortable; I don’t suppose you could let me go if I promise not to attack you again?”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “That’s up to the captain.”

“You’re not the captain?”

“If Lance and Hunk would move out of the entryway faster, you could ask the captain herself!” Pidge huffed from out-of-sight.

“Hey, if something made Keith shout like that-”

“ _ I _ was  _ not _ the one who shouted!” 

“-it’s only right that we should protect the captain,” Hunk finished as he and Lance took a few more steps forward.

“Yeah, yeah,” Pidge muttered, making her way into the room.

The older man let out another groan. “Is that  _ Coran _ ?” Lance gasped, hurrying over to help the man up.

“Good grief, Keith, what did you do?” Pidge said, surveying the state of the cargo hold as she finally entered the room.

“They  _ attacked _ me! What was I supposed to have done?” Keith replied incredulously.

“Well,” Pidge started, then froze as her eyes met those of the young woman next to Keith. A flicker of recognition darted across her face as she and Allura scowled at each other.

“YOU!” both girls yelled, simultaneously pointing an accusatory finger at the other.

“You’re the one who took the mapstone!” the taller girl exclaimed.

“And  _ you’re _ the one who walked in and interrupted me!” Pidge exclaimed back, her tone matching the other girl’s in irritation.

“Do you have any idea the worth of that stone?!”

“Yes, that’s why I needed it! And if you had only taken a moment to hear me out before you started shouting, you might have understood why! Do you have any idea how much trouble you caused me?”

“You were  _ stealing _ from us!” Allura huffed and placed her hands on her hips, giving Pidge an imperious look. “I demand you return the mapstone.”

Pidge locked eyes with the young woman and returned her defiant expression. “You have my word.”

“That’s- I-” Allura stammered, her prepared argument seemingly screeching to a halt. Her face scrunched a little in confusion. “…What?”

“It was never my intent to keep it,” Pidge answered quietly, maintaining eye contact. “I only needed to borrow it for a little while, and then I was going to return it. I need it-” she cleared her throat as her voice cracked a little, “I need it to find my family. To save them.”

__________________________________________________________________________

A short while and one retold story of the Holt’s capture later, the crew and the two stowaways had settled themselves around the table in the crew’s quarters. Hunk had just returned from the galley with some hot cups of tea for everyone, and began passing them out.

“So, now you know why I needed the mapstone, but I’m still curious about how the two of you ended up on our ship,” Pidge said, accepting the cup and blowing the steam from the top before taking a sip.

“After you made it out of the house, I realized you would probably be headed for the docks. So, thinking to apprehend you myself, I decided to go straight there. I was a little held up, though,” Allura glanced toward Coran.

“Allura, as your advisor and protector, I could hardly let you go gallivanting off to catch a thief by yourself!” Coran declared.

“Yes, well, once Coran decided he was coming with me, we went to the docks and climbed aboard the only unfamiliar ship in the harbor.”

“How did you know this wasn’t just a trade ship?” Pidge asked.

“Father put me in charge of greeting and welcoming foreign visitors to Port Altea. We’re not a very big town, so if you spend any amount of time around the docks, you start to recognize which ships visit regularly. We also don’t get very many visits from non-tradesmen, which makes a new ship fairly easy to recognize.”

“Ah.”

“I was planning on waiting for you to show up there so I could confront you directly, but then Coran noticed these two… gentlemen,” she gestured to Keith and Hunk, “coming aboard the ship, and he urged me to hide. That, of course, was a bit short-sighted, as we had not anticipated the rather swift departure of your ship.”

“…So instead you planned to just take us out, one by one, until you had control of the ship?” Keith asked, peering at her cooly from across the table.

“Well, not exactly, no,” she said. “Truthfully, we hadn’t come up with a plan, but you kind of surprised us when you walked in and started looking around, and Coran may have improvised a little.”

“Improvisation  _ is _ one of my strong suits!” Coran said proudly, contentedly sipping his tea.

“But I do think we need to discuss the issue at hand,” Allura focused her attention on Pidge. “I want you to use the mapstone to help find your family. I cannot imagine what you’ve been going through since they were taken, and if I can help you in any way, I want to do so.”

“Really?” Pidge asked. “I mean… thank you! Thank you so much! I promise, as soon as we recover my family, we’ll return your mapstone.”

“I believe you will,” Allura smiled kindly.

Pidge turned to Keith. “We’re not too far outside of Port Altea; set a course back so we can return Allura and Coran home.”

“Aye aye, captain,” Keith stood and started for the steps.

As he began to walk past her, Allura’s hand shot out and grasped his sleeve. She smiled sweetly. “Belay that order, please.”

“What?” Keith asked, his expression cracked in confusion.

“What?” Pidge asked, equally confused. “What’s wrong?”

“I wasn’t quite finished,” Allura stated, releasing Keith’s sleeve. “You may borrow the mapstone, but we- Coran and I- are going to come with you. I said I wanted to help you on your quest, and I think the best way I can do so is to join you. You may find our assistance indispensable.”

Pidge gave her a hard stare as Keith said, “What makes you think that?”

“I overheard you mention the Logbook,” Allura stated simply. “That can only mean that your next destination is Daibazaal.”

“How could you have known that?” Pidge asked, not bothering to hide her incredulity.

“You came for the mapstone, and there’s only one thing I’ve ever heard my father mention in conjunction with it: the Logbook. And I happen to know that the Logbook’s location is in the city of Daibazaal.”

“So you know all of that, but how do  _ we _ know we can really trust you?” Keith looked at Allura warily. “How do we know that you won’t turn us in as soon as we reach the city?”

Allura looked from Keith to Pidge, her expression serious. “I’m afraid that you’re just going to have to trust me. Especially since I am your best chance of obtaining the artifact you need in Daibazaal.”


	4. Daibazaal

**Chapter 4: Daibazaal**

  
  
“Long ago, a group of explorers set out to find the lost city of Torvlon. Legends told that the city was home to a great treasure, worth far more than any other; for, as the stories go, instead of just granting incomparable wealth, this treasure was life-giving and life-sustaining. Unfortunately, the stories weren’t any more specific about the treasure than that. Naturally, this encouraged many adventurers and explorers to go in search of Torvlon. All attempts at finding the city, however, were unsuccessful; those that made it back from their voyages had either given up, or failed on some part of the journey. And, of course, there were those that were never heard from again. Torvlon remained a legend, its secrets undiscovered and only speculated upon; that is, until the aforementioned group of explorers decided to take on the quest.  
  
“They were a group of friends and warriors from different nations, brought together by a love of adventure and a fascination with the lost city. What set them apart from all the other explorers, however, were three artifacts they had in their possession. A compass that would seem to a casual observer to be broken…” Pidge paused in her story to pull a small compass from the satchel and set it on the table, “and two oddly shaped stones.” She took the small black pouch and withdrew the mapstone from inside. The stone could have easily been mistaken as the tip of an ancient spear, with its roughhewn triangular shape; the biggest difference seemed to be the perfect smoothness of the underside of the stone.   
  
Pidge set the mapstone on the table next to the compass. “These artifacts, however, had been navigational tools the Torvlonians had used to find their way back home when out at sea. The compass would guide them, ever pointing the direction they needed to go, while the stone, when placed on a map, would give them exact routes to take.   
  
“The stones were in the possession of Alfor, a young man from Port Altea, and Gyrgan, of the village of Rygnirah. Blaytz, who hailed from the seafaring city of Nalquod, was the keeper of the compass. It was another of their friends, however, who discovered the purpose of the mapstones.  
  
“Trigel, of the Dalterion Keys, was the one who realized the true purpose of the mapstones. She decided to create a map of their travels, using the mapstone to help mark their course, and what they encountered along the way. Zarkon, from the city of Daibazaal, and the captain of their ship, kept a log of their journey, taking special note of the challenges they faced along the way.  
  
“When they returned from their voyage, they split the artifacts between them once again, this time leaving their map with Trigel and the captain’s logbook with Zarkon. If anyone were to find the lost city again, they would most assuredly need the artifacts to ensure their success.”  
  
“So, you have the compass and the mapstone, and we’re on our way to get the Logbook,” Lance counted on his fingers, “but doesn’t that leave you two artifacts short?”  
  
“The map has already been stolen,” Pidge glared at the table. “Sendak and his crew raided the Dalterion Keys before they kidnapped my family. And, since we didn’t run into them at Port Altea, I can only assume that the mapstone they’ll try to get is Gyrgan’s. With only those two items, though, their progress should be slower. If we can get to the Logbook first, then we’ll have the advantage.”  
  
“Do you think they’ll try to get the Logbook, too?” Lance asked.  
  
“I doubt it.” Pidge smiled grimly. “Sendak is originally from Daibazaal. As an infamous pirate, if he were to return home, he would almost certainly be captured and set to trial.”  
  
“I’m still not convinced we’ll fare much better,” Keith said. “Daibazaal is notorious for being an incredibly militaristic society. If the Logbook is recognized as being at all important to the governor, it’s going to be heavily guarded.”  
  
Allura cleared her throat, drawing the attention of the crew. “As I stated before, I should be able to help you in obtaining the Logbook.”  
  
Keith raised an eyebrow. “And what would the daughter of a governor know about stealing heavily fortified artifacts?”  
  
Allura smiled at him without a trace of malice. “Absolutely nothing, I assure you. I do, however, happen to be on good terms with their governor.”  
  
____________________________________________________________________________  
  
Upon arrival in Daibazaal, the crew managed to dock the ship without incident. They gathered on the deck to discuss the plan.  
  
“Man, I still can’t believe you’ve known the governor since you were children!” Hunk laughed.   
  
“Yes, our fathers’ friendship led to us becoming good friends,” Allura smiled. She turned to Pidge. “I know Governor Lotor has a reputation for running a very no-nonsense government, but he really is a kind person. I am sure I will be able to convince him to let us borrow the Logbook.”  
  
“And I, of course, will be going along with Allura,” Coran asserted. “If things should go sour, I am more than prepared to defend her.”  
  
“Thank you, Coran, but I’m sure it won’t come to that.” She nodded to Pidge. “Well then, Captain, we will meet you back here.”  
  
“Alright, Allura. Good luck!” Pidge waved as Allura and Coran disembarked.  
  
“Say, while they’re working on that, I was thinking it might be a good idea to do another supply run. You know, especially since our crew has now doubled in numbers,” Hunk pointed out, fishing a wad of papers from his pocket. “I’ve already taken the liberty of writing out shopping lists. This city is pretty big, so I suggest we split into two groups, to save time.”  
  
Hunk glanced over the lists, then handed one to Pidge, pocketing the other one himself. “Keith, you’re with me. Unless, Pidge, you’d rather one of us show the new guy the ropes?”  
  
Pidge shook her head and coughed to hide the slight blush creeping into her cheeks. “No, that’s okay. I recruited him, after all.” She cleared her throat. “Okay, then! We’ll meet back here in about two hours.” Nodding at Lance, she turned to go ashore.  
  
As Pidge and Lance headed into town together, he nervously stuck his hands in his pockets. He still couldn’t believe that he was now part of a pirate crew. He glanced at Pidge, who was alternating between checking Hunk’s list and looking up to see if she could spot a shop that might hold that particular item or items. He was also having a hard time believing that this diminutive young lady was a ruthless pirate captain, capable of enough atrocities to make her wary of being recognized in town. Admittedly, the cute way in which she was biting her lip while scrutinizing their list was not helping the image.  
  
Lance felt his cheeks warm at the thought, and looked away quickly. They were approaching what looked to be a district of item shops and smiths. Two story shops lined the streets, with open stalls and booths set up between the buildings. Metallic clanging could be heard from the metalsmith and blacksmith shops. The faint, earthy scent of tanning leather wafted on a light breeze. Lance smiled wistfully to himself.  
  
“Penny for your thoughts?”  
  
“Huh?” He looked back to Pidge, who had stopped walking just in front of a bakery. “Oh… well, I was just thinking how this reminds me of home. The sounds, the smells… you know?” He chuckled. “I bet if I closed my eyes for a moment I could fool myself into thinking I’m on my way in to work at the shop!"  
  
“Yeah,” she said. “Um… again, I’m sorry. You’d be home right now if you hadn’t gotten mixed up with me.”  
  
“You don’t have to keep apologizing, Pidge. I’m the one who decided to jump on the boat.”  
  
“Oh… okay.” The easy smile Lance was giving her plus his reassurance seemed to set her mind at ease. Once the initial excitement from Lance suddenly joining their crew and the discovery of the stowaways had calmed down, worry had set in. Thankfully, he and Hunk had seemed to become fast friends, and Keith hadn’t spared any time in finding him something to do aboard the ship. Pidge, meanwhile, had been so consumed with guilt the last few days she had barely spoken to him at all.  
  
She returned his smile, then pointed at the bakery. “So, are you hungry?”  
  
The smell of freshly baked bread coming from the store made Lance’s mouth water. “Is bread one of the things on our list?”  
  
“Are you kidding?” Pidge laughed. “Hunk doesn’t trust anyone with picking out provisions but himself. I just thought it smelled good and wanted to get a roll, and thought you might like one, too.”  
  
“Oh! Well… yeah! I would!”  
  
They went inside the bakery and made their way towards the counter, marveling at the different breads on display. A few more people were inside the shop, waiting to be helped or rung up by the baker. Lance noticed Pidge casually pull her hood a little further over her head.  
  
_Oh yeah… pirates. I’m with a pirate right now._ Lance glanced around; it didn’t seem like anyone was paying them any attention. He wondered again what the plan was, exactly, for acquiring the things on their list…  
  
A woman at the counter completed her purchase, then turned and headed for the door, her arms full of several wrapped up pieces of bread. As she neared the door, it swung open suddenly, admitting a couple children. As the children ran past the woman, one of them bumped her arm, sending her carefully balanced breads tumbling out of her arms.  
  
“Sorry!” called the child, and he disappeared behind the counter.  
  
“Don’t run in the store!” the baker called after them irritably.  
  
The woman sank down to the floor and started trying to pick up the toppled breads.   
  
“Here, let me help you.” Pidge knelt down next to the woman and helped her pick up the packages.  
  
“Thank you!” The woman smiled gratefully at Pidge as she stood up, breads back in place. She turned and walked out the door.   
  
Pidge stood up and brushed the light dusting of flour off her knees. Lance saw her pause, then reach down and pick something up off the floor. She turned to him, a small coin purse in her hand. “I think that lady must have dropped this; I’ll be right back!” Without waiting for his reply, she turned and hurried out of the shop.  
  
Lance stared after her, dumbfounded. He had half expected her to turn around with at least a couple pieces of bread stuffed into her pockets, and he certainly had not expected her to rush after a stranger to return money that had practically fallen into her hands. Just what sort of pirates were they?  
  
Pidge returned a moment later, grinning. “I found her! She hadn’t even noticed she had dropped her purse.”  
  
A few minutes later, they had purchased their rolls and were happily munching on the little snack while they continued their errands. As they visited each merchant, Lance couldn’t help but notice more instances of Pidge being helpful to others as opportunities presented themselves. Growing up in a port town, pirate stories were a staple of his childhood. He had heard pirates described as many things, but “kind” was definitely not one of them.  
  
As they left the last shop and ambled down the street, Pidge looked over their list. “Hmm… it looks like we’re almost done. If we have some time left, I want to check out the library,” Pidge mused as she checked off items. “Daibazaal is supposed to have a really excellent one!”  
  
“Say, Pidge; I’ve got a question,” Lance started tentatively.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“So… how _did_ you get labeled as pirates? Because, from what I’ve seen, you and the others are the most un-pirate-like pirates I’ve ever heard of!”  
  
“Well… remember when we met? And I said we never wanted to be pirates? We may not have exactly given off that impression when we first left on this quest.”  
  
“Go on,” Lance encouraged her.  
  
“See, the navy had already given up on searching for my parents. When they found their ship, it had very clearly been attacked by pirates. My family was presumed dead, and even after I found evidence that they were probably captured instead of killed, none of the authorities wanted to listen. They kind of brushed me off as having gone crazy with grief, and were, in short, less than helpful. But then I told Keith what I had discovered, and he hadn’t given up hope, either. So we decided to go and find our families on our own. I told Hunk about our plan, and he decided he would come along, too, so the three of us went to see what we could do to charter a ship.  
  
“As it turns out, not a single captain at the dock was interested in chartering out their ship to three university students on a ‘fool’s errand.’ When we were leaving the dockyard, though, I caught sight of the Verde. It was smaller than some of the other ships in the yard, and seemed about the right size for three people to sail; Keith saw where I was looking and identified it as one of the ships that had been loaned to the university for sailing classes. We sort of reasoned that, if the Verde was meant for students at our university to use, then it would be fine if we used it, especially since Keith had already been in the sailing classes…”  
  
“So you justified the theft of a boat that belonged to your school.” Lance raised an eyebrow.  
  
“Oh, we justified the heck out of it! But you may have noticed, justification of theft is a lot of what we’ve been doing so far,” Pidge frowned and looked him in the eyes. “I meant what I told Allura, though; we _are_ planning to return everything we’ve taken.”  
  
“I believe you, Pidge,” Lance reassured her. “Although, this still doesn’t completely explain how you were labeled as ‘pirates’… How did they know you were the ones who took the Verde?”  
  
“Oh, that part is a little embarrassing…” Pidge turned her eyes back forward, feeling the blush darkening her cheeks.   
  
“_Go on_…” Lance grinned.  
  
“Well… we decided to gather the things we needed and come back to get the ship that evening. We were going to hide on the ship, and then cast off in the cover of night. I had a lot of stuff I needed to get together, though, so I ended up not having time to change before meeting Hunk and Keith. I grabbed some of my brother’s old clothes and decided to just change in the cabin later. Then, we snuck onto the ship when it looked like the dockyard guard wasn’t looking.  
  
“At first, everything was fine; the Verde was empty, as expected, so we settled in to wait until dark. I decided, since we had a little time, I would go into the captain’s cabin and change….” Pidge grimaced at the memory.  
  
_***6 months earlier***_  
“Everything clear?” Katie asked Keith and Hunk as they quietly crept back onto the deck. She sat huddled in a shady spot, knees drawn up to her chest. She was determined to carry out their hastily formulated plan, but her nerves were starting to get to her. It didn’t help that the dress she had put on that morning was perhaps not the best option for trying to sneak aboard a ship; her movement felt restricted, and that only made her more nervous.  
  
“Nobody below deck, and no sign of anyone above,” Keith confirmed.  
  
“You doing alright, Pidge?” Hunk asked.   
  
“I’ll be alright; even better once I change. I should have just changed clothes first when I got home…” she grumbled.  
  
“Yeah, but then you might not have had time to grab the other things you were trying to find,” Hunk pointed out.  
  
Keith nodded. “We only had a short window of time to board before the guard came back around and the night guards were added to the patrol.”  
  
“Not to mention,” Hunk added, “if you spent the day running around in a shirt and breeches, people would definitely think you were up to something. They’d probably think you were running off with a bunch of pirates.”  
  
“I have a vest, too.” She frowned.  
  
“My point about looking like a pirate still stands.” Hunk crossed his arms as Katie rolled her eyes.  
  
“Well, if everything is all clear, I think I’m going to go ahead and change in the captain’s quarters.” She picked up her knapsack with Matt’s long outgrown clothes tucked inside, and quietly crept into the cabin. She poked her head out of the doorway to add with a smirk, “Besides, Hunk, I wouldn’t run away with a bunch of pirates. _I_ would be the _captain_.” Then, she softly shut the door behind her.   
  
“Hey, Keith,” Hunk said, wrinkling his brow, “you checked the captain’s cabin, right?”  
  
“I thought you did,” Keith said, narrowing his gaze.  
  
“Maybe Pidge-” They were interrupted by a high-pitched screech, followed by a startled yell, coming from the cabin. The boys jumped to their feet and flung the door open to find Katie holding her dress up with one hand and with the other, brandishing a… grappling hook?  
  
“_Get out of here, Varkon!_” she growled. Hunk and Keith whipped their heads over to where she was pointing her, er, “weapon.”  
  
One of the senior students from the university, Varkon, was cowering a few feet away, holding a sword out in front of him. A quick inspection told the boys that he had been placed on student guard duty. He caught sight of Hunk and Keith and screeched again.   
  
“_More_ pirates?!” he yelped, swinging his sword around to point towards Hunk and Keith.  
  
“_What_? Pirates?!” Katie sputtered. “We’re not pirates, Varkon!”  
  
“You can’t fool me! I heard you talking! And you…” he gasped, swinging his sword back toward her. “_You’re_ the captain, Katie Holt! A life of piracy… what would your parents say?”  
  
Katie’s expression darkened. “Well. I suppose I’ll just have to ask them, once we find them,” she replied, her voice dangerously quiet. “But you’ll just have to wait to find out. Hunk! Keith! Get him out of here!”  
  
Keith whipped his dagger out and knocked Varkon’s sword from his hand. Hunk grabbed Varkon by the arms, and looked inquiringly at Pidge. “Out of here…?”  
  
“Rrrgh, I don’t care, just off the ship!”  
  
“Off the ship?” Hunk repeated.  
  
“Off the ship?!” Varkon wailed.  
  
Keith heaved a deep sigh. “Guess we’re doing this.” He grabbed one of Varkon’s arms from Hunk and the two frogmarched him out of the cabin.  
  
Katie quickly pulled on the breeches and loose shirt and followed them out onto the deck, just in time to see the boys heaving the stunned student guard over the side. He shrieked all the way to the water.   
  
As Varkon surfaced, Hunk called out, “Sorry, man! …Captain’s orders, I guess?”  
  
“HELP! PIRATES!” Varkon yelled.  
  
“What? We’re not pirates!” Hunk insisted.  
  
“Keith… weigh anchor. We’ve got to get out of here,” Katie said. Keith nodded, and ran for the forecastle.  
  
“THEY MADE ME WALK THE PLANK!”  
  
“What?! No, we didn’t!” Hunk ran a hand over his face. He turned to Katie. “Hoo boy, none of this is going to plan… What a mess.”  
  
“Just leave him,” Katie scowled. “It doesn’t matter what we say. In the end, we _are_ stealing a ship, no matter how noble our intentions. Let’s go help Keith so we can get out of here before anyone shows up to follow us.”  
  
***************  
Lance tried, and failed, to hide his grin. “A _grappling hook_?” he asked.   
  
“I heard someone move in the cabin as I was just changing clothes, and I grabbed the first thing within reach!” She buried her face in her hands. “I didn’t think I had time to be choosy!”  
  
“And the guard’s overreaction…!” Lance covered his mouth, trying to suppress a laugh.  
“Yes. Which, for Varkon, was not outside the norm; he tended toward being something of a blowhard, so we weren’t sure anyone would take his claims seriously. But, by the time we made port in another town, there were wanted posters up with our pictures, claiming ‘acts of piracy’ as our crime. We’ve tried to remain inconspicuous since then; I even cut my hair to try to improve my disguise, and most of the time I just go by my nickname.”  
  
“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad I didn’t join up with the usual kind of pirates.” Lance smiled at her.   
  
“So,” Pidge looked back up at him, “you’ve heard my story; now I’m curious. What made you decide to come with us?”  
  
“I mean, you presented such a compelling argument at the dock…”  
  
“That was before I knew that you and the governor’s daughter were friends,” she pointed out. “You probably would have been pardoned, if you had explained yourself.” She looked at him inquiringly.  
  
Lance met her eyes, then gazed off into the sky. “I guess… I’ve just been looking for where I belong.”  
  
“It seemed like you had a pretty good place in Port Altea.”  
  
“Sure, all my family is there, my mom and dad, my brothers and sisters and their families; and they all seem to know exactly what they want to do with their lives. As for me, I end up working here and there, either at the store, or on the farm. But I’ve always felt like I don’t really have much of a role in either place. I’m basically just a stock boy at the shop, and on the farm, I mainly do target practice while I help my sister watch the grazing animals.”  
  
“That must be why you’re such a good shot!” Pidge exclaimed. Lance gave her a quizzical look, and she added, “I mean, with the barrels and… uh… please, go on!”  
  
Lance nodded, then continued. “While I don’t mind doing those jobs, a lot of the time I feel like… if I wasn’t there to do them, it wouldn’t really matter. The jobs would still get done. My parents and my brother could bring things to the store and stock the shelves, my sister can watch the herd pretty well on her own… I just feel like I’m… unnecessary.”  
  
“I’m sure your family doesn’t feel that way!”  
  
“I know they don’t; I guess it’s more that I don’t know that farming is what I want to do. And,” he added, smirking, “while joining up with a band of pirates hadn’t _really_ been on my ‘to-do list’, it _did_ seem like an adventure!”  
  
“I guess I can kind of relate.” Pidge looked thoughtful. “When I was younger, I dreamed of being an explorer. I wanted to go on expeditions, discover new places, learn about different cultures by visiting there, not just reading about them. But, I was on track to be in academics- not that there’s anything wrong with that! It’s just not what I had imagined. Of course, that was before all of _this_ happened. To be honest?” She cast her eyes downward. “Now I’m not sure if I’ll ever get to do more than just be on the run. My plan is pretty simple in the long run; find and rescue my family, then return all ‘borrowed’ items and clear our names. But every time I think about that, there are just… _so many_ unknown variables. What if, after everything, I can’t clear our names?”  
  
They walked on quietly for a moment, the question hanging in the air. Finally, Lance spoke. “Why borrow trouble?”   
  
Pidge met his eyes, her eyebrows raised. “What?”  
  
“Worrying about something that may or may not happen in the future is going to distract you from figuring out what’s happening now. Let’s take it one day at a time, work on today’s problems today, and save tomorrow’s problems for tomorrow.” He grinned, and elbowed her gently in the side. “And don’t forget, you’re not in this alone! You’ve got a pretty good crew, if I do say so myself.”  
  
“Thanks, Lance,” she said, feeling the corners of her mouth curving upward. “That actually makes me feel better.”  
  
“And, you know,” he shrugged, “we’re kind of explorers right now, if you think about it. See? You’re living the dream!”  
  
Pidge laughed and rolled her eyes. “In ways I never imagined!” She shoved his shoulder playfully. “Let’s hurry and get these last couple items on the list; I want to do some exploring in the library!”  
  
A few minutes later, they had procured the cords Hunk had listed, and were walking toward the library. The coil of rope that was slung around Lance’s shoulder was proving a bit cumbersome, though, and a bit of the end kept falling away from the rest and dragging behind them.  
  
“We could stop and try to tuck it back into the rest of the coil?” Lance suggested as Pidge picked up the end and began winding the slack around her hand.  
  
“That’s alright; when we get to the library, if you want to retie it while I look for books, that would make the most efficient use of our time.”  
  
“That works,” Lance agreed. “What are you hoping to find in the library?”  
  
“Any other information about Torvlon; legends, accounts of quests, anything I haven’t already read. If Daibazaal’s library is as extensive as I’ve heard, there’s a good chance there’s a lot of information to find.”  
  
“Oh,” Lance eyed the smaller coil of rope Pidge had been winding around her wrist. “Do you want me take that? It almost looks like we’re tied together.”  
  
“At least we won’t get separated in a crowd!” Pidge pulled the loops of rope off her wrist. She was about to pass it to him, when someone wearing a dark cloak came rushing up to them.   
  
They caught the figure’s sudden movement too late, and the person slammed into Lance, knocking him into an alley. Lance felt his back hit a wall, and as he gasped in surprise, noticed the stranger pointing a knife at his neck. Pidge followed them into the alley, stopping short when she saw the stranger’s weapon.  
  
The stranger looked in Pidge’s direction just long enough to holler a husky “_Run!_”, then turned his head back to Lance. His voice and demeanor radiated intensity as he asked, “_Where are the other pirates?_”  
  
Before Lance could answer, a voice filled with cold fury replied, “Behind you.”  
  
The stranger jerked his head up, the light illuminating his face just enough for Lance to spot a familiar set of eyes. The stranger turned his head slowly. His gaze settled on Pidge, her weapon out and pointed at him, her jaw set and eyes unblinking. Apparently, in the confusion, her hood had fallen off her head. “Let. Him. Go.”  
  
The stranger pulled in a slow breath. He slowly lowered the knife with one hand, and reached up with the other to remove his own hood.   
  
Pidge gasped and lowered her weapon. She felt tears springing to her eyes.  
  
“Katie…” the stranger whispered.  
  
“Matt!” Her weapon clattered to the ground as Pidge flung her arms around her brother’s neck.  
  
The Holt siblings stood there for a moment hugging each other tightly, laughing as tears of joy and relief flowed down their cheeks.   
  
Lance blinked a couple times. He rubbed the back of his head. “Um… what is going on?”  
  
“Lance, this is my brother, Matt!” Pidge introduced them. “Matt, this is Lance. He’s one of my crew.”  
  
“_Your_ crew?” Matt asked in surprise. “I’d heard rumors, but I didn’t think they were true!”  
  
“It’s a long story…” Pidge said, “But I’ll tell you that one later. I want to know how you’re _here_!”  
  
“I can tell you, but…” Matt looked around the alley they were still standing in. “Let’s go somewhere else.”  
  
“It’s almost time for us to meet everyone back at the ship,” Lance offered.  
  
“Then let’s go back towards the docks,” Pidge decided. Matt nodded in confirmation, and, all thoughts of the library forgotten, the three set out for the Leonessa Verde.  
  
“Where to start…” Matt rubbed his chin thoughtfully.  
  
“What happened on your expedition?” Pidge prompted.  
  
“Well, we were out at sea; we had just discovered the location of Gyrgan’s mapstone, and were plotting a course to get there, when we were attacked by Captain Sendak and his crew. They boarded our ship, took Mom, Dad, Shiro, and myself as prisoners, and took all the research Mom and Dad had brought with them. They set part of our ship on fire, and then threatened us to coerce our parents into helping them find Torvlon. In the middle of that, Sendak discovered that you were still in school. So, he decided to send a group of his men to shore; they were to take me along to the university to capture you and hold us captive. He told Mom and Dad that, if they didn’t cooperate with him, our lives were in danger.”  
  
“How did you escape?”  
  
“I was sent ashore with two pirates; I suppose Sendak thought that would be enough.” Matt smiled smugly. “It’s funny, isn’t it? People always seem to underestimate academics; our brains don’t have to be our only strength! I outsmarted _and_ overpowered them, then delivered them to the local authorities.  
  
“I decided to try and save our parents, but I wanted to check on you and warn you to be on the lookout first.” He frowned. “When I got to the school, I started hearing rumors; the gist of it was that you had gone missing, and it seemed that pirates were involved. I thought that Sendak had sent a second group from his crew and that they had successfully captured you, so when I saw you with Lance…”  
  
“…you mistook him as one of my captors.” Pidge finished.  
  
“Yeah,” confirmed Matt, looking at Lance sheepishly. “Sorry for that, by the way.”  
  
“Don’t worry about it,” Lance nodded to him. “If I thought someone had taken one of my sisters, I probably would have done the same.”  
  
“So how did you end up in Daibazaal?” Pidge asked.  
  
“Probably same as you,” Matt smiled. “I knew where Mom and Dad were headed, so I thought I would check the library here for more information. I’ve been here for a couple weeks, reading up on everything that could possibly relate to finding Torvlon. There was a lot of information, but I’m still not sure how to get there without even one of the artifacts.”  
  
Pidge cocked her head and grinned cheekily. “If only you knew an industrious pirate captain who has gathered not one, but _three_, of said artifacts, and happens to be recruiting crew members…”  
  
Matt looked at her incredulously. “Do you mean… _you_ have three of the artifacts?”  
  
Pidge gave a slight nod. Matt whooped, picked her up, and swung her around. “_My_ sister!” he exclaimed.   
  
As he set her down, Pidge grabbed both of his hands. “Come with us! We’re headed to Torvlon. We’re going to intercept Sendak’s crew there, and rescue Mom, Dad, and Shiro!”  
  
“Pidge, you didn’t even have to ask. Of course I’m going with you!” He grinned. “Three artifacts… how did you even manage that?”  
  
“I’ll tell you everything, I promise,” she said. “But now, I’d like to welcome you aboard the Leonessa Verde!” They stopped walking, and Katie gave a sweeping gesture to their ship. Matt laughed at his sister’s theatrics and went to board the ship.  
  
As the three of them walked up the gangplank, a thought occurred to Lance. “How did he know about your nickname?” he asked Pidge.  
  
She smiled broadly. “He’s the one that gave me that nickname!”  
  
“Is that Hunk?” They heard Matt exclaim. They stepped onto the deck in time to see Hunk clapping Matt on the back.   
  
“Where did you come from, Matt?” he asked. “We thought you had been taken by pirates!”  
  
“He escaped!” Pidge answered excitedly. “He’s joining our crew!”  
  
“That’s great!” said Hunk. “Say, speaking of new crew members, there’s someone you should meet.”  
They followed Hunk toward the helm, where they saw Keith standing, arms crossed, casting a suspicious glare towards Allura, Coran, and another gentleman, tall, with light, flowing hair. Allura caught sight of them and waved.  
  
“Captain Pidge, I would like to introduce you to Governor Lotor,” Allura extended a hand toward the tall gentleman, who gave a small bow.  
  
“Charmed to make your acquaintance,” he said. He took her hand in his and lightly kissed the back of it.

Lance felt his insides churn in irritation at the gesture.  
  
“Oh! Uh…” Pidge was unsure if she should curtsy, or perhaps return the bow; instead, she turned her hand and shook his firmly. “Thank you. Nice to meet you, as well.”  
  
“Lotor has agreed to let us borrow the Logbook,” Allura said, “though he does have one request.” She turned to him and smiled.  
  
“Yes,” Lotor nodded. “I would like to accompany you on this journey. I have long been fascinated by the legends surrounding Torvlon, as well as curious about my family’s legacy. Unfortunately, my father and mother both… passed… before they could entrust me with such knowledge. I’m hoping this quest will help connect me with their story. I have much sailing experience, and should be help rather than hindrance. I ask humbly that you let me join your crew.”  
  
Pidge looked toward Lance, Hunk, and Keith. Lance was frowning at his shoes, Hunk raised his eyebrows, and Keith only shrugged. She turned back to Lotor. “We’d be happy to have you join us,” she said, “but aren’t you the governor here? This journey is going to be dangerous. What will your people do if you’re… not here?”  
  
Lotor nodded. “I appreciate your concern. I have a small group of generals who I trust implicitly; they will act as interim rulers while I am gone. As for the journey… Please believe me, I do understand the dangers. But this is something I feel I must do.” He looked into her eyes. “Please. Let me join your crew and help on your quest.”  
  
Pidge regarded him keenly. “Welcome aboard, Governor.”  
  
He gave her a gracious smile. “Thank you, Captain.”  
  
“Just ‘Pidge’ is fine.”  
  
“And you may call me Lotor.” He opened the satchel at his side and pulled a small, leather-bound book from it, then handed it to Pidge. “My father’s Logbook, as requested.”  
  
Pidge beamed, carefully taking the book and running her hand over the cover. Almost unable to contain her excitement, she looked over at Keith, Hunk, Matt, all of whom wore similarly eager expressions, and finally Lance, whose warm, buoyant smile caused an additional fluttering feeling in her chest. She straightened her stance, looked out toward the open sea, and said, “All right, everyone! It’s time to set sail!”


	5. The Challengers

**Chapter 5: The Challengers**

  
  
“The compass to point the way, the mapstone to guide us, and the Logbook to prepare us.” Pidge placed the three artifacts on the table, then sat down between Hunk and Lance. “Keith?”  
  
“According to the compass, we’re currently sailing in the correct direction,” Keith replied. “Though it still seems a little shaky...If we can use the mapstone to get a more exact location to head towards, then I can estimate how long it will take us to arrive.”  
  
Hunk turned in his seat and took a large map from its place on the wall, then spread it in front of them. “It has to use a map, right?” he asked.  
  
“That’s what the story indicated,” Pidge said. She picked up the mapstone and turned it over in her hands. “Keith, do you know about where we are?”  
  
Keith leaned across the table, studied the map for a moment, then pointed at a spot. “We’re about here.”  
  
Pidge turned the mapstone smooth side down, then gently placed it onto the map. Everyone leaned forward slightly, eyes on the stone to see what it would do. It sat motionless for a moment, and then, as though pushed by some invisible force, began to slowly move across the map.  
  
“Unbelievable!” Allura watched in wide-eyed wonder. “This stone has been in my father’s study for as far back as I can remember; I never knew it could do something like this!”  
  
Pidge smiled at her astonishment. She caught Keith looking at Allura out of the corner of his eye, a small smile on his face. _Huh_, she thought. Without really thinking about it, she found her eyes shifting to Lance.  
  
His expression was somewhere between “amazed” and “terrified”. “We’re all seeing this, right? That stone is _definitely_ moving… right?”  
  
“Don’t worry, Lance, you’re not crazy,” Pidge reassured him.  
  
“It’s moving toward our first destination,” Lotor murmured.  
  
“The first of the Guardians,” Matt said.  
  
“The…’Guardians’?” Hunk asked. “What, you mean, like, actual people?”  
“No, more like a set of challenges.” Pidge sat back and picked up the Logbook. “Trigel’s map would have had the Guardians labeled, but the Logbook should have a detailed record of them.”  
  
“Does that mean you already know about the Guardians, Lotor?” Allura asked.  
  
“Unfortunately, no,” Lotor frowned. “The only thing I really know about them is that they are three challenges one must overcome to have any hope of finding Torvlon. My father wrote about them in his Logbook, but much of his writing seems to be in some kind of ancient script.”  
  
“Ancient script, you say?” Pidge brightened, then started flipping through the pages. “Hmm… I don’t see anything about ‘Guardians’…” she muttered. “Maybe something else- here!” She opened the book wide with an air of triumph and set it in front of her. “The Challengers.”  
  
“Challengers, huh?” Lance leaned a little closer to look at the pages. “So what kind of challengers, or guardians, or whatever we’re going to call them, does this book say we’re going to find?”  
  
“Um.” Pidge cleared her throat. “Let’s see.” She turned the page. “It looks like the names of the challenges was spelled out in common; the descriptions of each one, though… definitely an ancient language.” She stared at it, tapping a finger on her cheek.  
  
“What do you think, Pidge?” Matt asked.  
  
“Give me a few hours, and I should have this translated.” She smirked confidently.  
  
“What? Really?” Lotor asked.  
  
“Sure! A lot of translating old languages is just figuring out the code. After that, you can start spotting similarities between current languages and the one you’re trying to translate. It’s like working a puzzle!”  
  
“Pidge has always been really good at breaking language codes,” Matt said.  
  
“Linguistics and ancient languages _is_ my field of study,” she said.  
  
“It’s what our family is known for.”  
  
“Remarkable!” Lotor looked impressed.  
  
“So what are the challenges called? You said that was easy to read, right?” Lance asked.  
  
“Yes,” Pidge turned back to the first page. “The first challenge is identified as ‘The Nightmare Isles’; the second one is called ‘Bank Channel’; and the third one is ‘The Beast at the Pass of Oriande’.”  
  
“The ‘Nightmare Isles’?” Hunk squeaked.  
  
“I’ve never heard of a place like that,” said Keith.  
  
“For good reason!” Hunk said. “It doesn’t sound like the sort of place someone would _want_ to go!”  
  
“…and not many people do,” Keith said, staring at the map. The mapstone had paused in its traverse across the paper, and Keith’s face had taken on an odd expression. “It looks like it’s in the middle of the ‘Windy Zone’.”  
  
“Why would sailors avoid a part of the sea called the Windy Zone?” asked Lance. “It doesn’t sound very dangerous to me.”  
  
“The Windy Zone got its name because it’s a place where the wind is always blowing; but the gusts are variable. It’s impossible to tell how fast the wind will move, if it will be a gentle gust or a gale force capable of capsizing a ship.” Keith’s eyebrows moved together with apprehension. “And it doesn’t sound like that’s even the challenge we’re supposed to overcome.”  
  
The table became quiet. Lance looked over at Pidge, whose confidence seemed to be morphing into unease. He opened his mouth to say something to hopefully make her feel better, but was interrupted as Keith spoke again.  
  
“Pidge, you said you could figure out what the Logbook says in a few hours?” he asked.  
  
“I should be able to, yes,” she answered.  
  
“I hope you’re right; from the route the mapstone is having us take, it looks like we’ll be coming to the Nightmare Isles in a day’s time.”  
  
Pidge nodded, then stood up from the table. “I guess I’d better get to work on that, then.” Without saying anything else, she picked up the book and headed upstairs towards the Captain’s cabin.  
  
Lance caught a look at her face as she walked out; her expression was anxious. He stood up to follow after, only to be passed by Matt, who seemed to be trying to catch up to his sister as well.  
  
Everyone else stood to go about their duties and to ready themselves for whatever the first challenge might be.  
Lance started up the stairs; he felt unsure of what he should be doing at that moment. His sharp eyes and good aim had earned him lookout duty, so really, he should be on his way to his position in the crow’s nest. But for some reason, he couldn’t shake the thought of Pidge’s expression and demeanor in the last few minutes of their meeting. For someone who typically exuded confidence, her sudden switch to uncertainty stirred in him a feeling not unlike the need to protect her he had felt back when they first met.  
  
He shook his head, trying to clear those thoughts. Her brother was with her now, wasn’t he? If she needed looking after, Matt could fill that role. She didn’t actually need him looking out for her…  
  
Lance’s brows knit together. He did not like this train of thought.  
  
His reverie was interrupted as he emerged from below deck and caught sight of Pidge and Matt standing just outside the captain’s cabin. She had a smile plastered on her face, and was nodding energetically. She waved Matt on, then turned and went inside the cabin.  
  
_See?_ Lance thought. _She’s fine. Everything is fine._  
  
It wasn’t until a moment later that he realized he hadn’t moved from his spot. Something about her manner just now had seemed a little disingenuous.  
  
_Well… it wouldn’t hurt to check on her. Just for a moment,_ he thought, walking toward the closed door. _That’s the friendly thing to do, right? Because… we’re friends. Yeah._ He quietly knocked on her door.  
  
“Just a moment…” came her muffled reply.  
  
A few seconds later, Pidge opened the door. “Oh! Lance! Um… come in?” Lance stepped inside, and Pidge closed the door behind him. “Is there something you needed?”  
  
“Uh.” He began brilliantly. “I was just on my way to the crow’s nest, and I thought…” he trailed off, noticing the watery redness to her eyes. “Are you okay?”  
  
“I’m fine!” she said, looking over his shoulder.  
  
“Pidge.” He spoke softly. “What’s wrong?”  
  
Her eyes came to rest on his. “Is it that obvious?” she whispered, her voice laced with concern.  
  
“Listen,” he started, “I know you have your brother here now, but I just wanted to say… if there’s something bothering you, you can tell me. You don’t have to hide it. I _want_ to know. And I’ll help, if I can.”  
  
She fiddled with her hands a moment, biting her lip. “It’s just…I suddenly realized how close we are. To the goal. We’re coming to the first challenge, and this is where so many crews have failed before. We have an actual, real chance of making it through, but… everyone is relying on me. And I’m trying to be strong, but I just keep thinking, what if I fail? What if I can’t lead us through? What if I translate something wrong, and instead of succeeding, we fail spectacularly? I wouldn’t just be failing my family, I would be dooming all of you, too… and, I don’t know… it just felt... _too_ real…” Pidge paused, an errant tear sliding down her cheek.

Not even a second later, Lance’s arms were around her, pulling her in close.  
  
“I didn’t… I didn’t tell Matt,” she went on, sniffling as more tears began to play follow-the-leader. “I didn’t want him to worry about me, or worry about our parents. I wanted him, and everyone else, to think I have everything… under control.” She let out a brief, strangled laugh. “Even if I might not think I do.”  
  
Lance silently held her, letting her bury her face in his chest while she quietly wept the tension out of her body. A few minutes later, as her breathing evened out, he finally spoke.  
  
“You know… I meant what I said, back in Daibazaal; you’re not in this alone. You don’t have to be strong on your own. We’re all in this with you, not because you or anyone made us, or promised us anything, but because we chose to be here. All we can do is try our best, and keep trying. You’re not failing anyone, even if you have to ask for help. We’re all here for you; I’m…” he lowered his voice to a murmur, “I’m here for you.”  
  
They continued standing in place for moment longer, then Pidge calmly pulled away. She dried her face on her sleeve, then looked up into his eyes. “Thank you, Lance.”  
  
He smiled. “Anytime.”  
  
“I, uh… I guess I better get cleaned up,” she said, wiping a hand over her eyes.  
  
“Oh; yeah, okay." He had to resist the urge to reach out and smooth a few pieces of loose hair from her face. "I’ll see you on deck,” he said, turning for the door.  
  
“Um, Lance?” she called softly. He turned, hand on the door. “I’m… glad you chose to be here.”  
  
“Me, too, Pidge.”  
  
He quickly turned back to the door and opened it, apparently just as Matt and Hunk were about to knock. The three stared at each other for a moment before Matt peered around Lance.  
  
“Pidge?” he called out.  
  
“Yes?” she answered, stepping out from the little washroom in her cabin. She was rubbing a towel across her eyes. “Sorry, I was just splashing some water on my face.”  
  
“Uh…huh,” said Matt, eyeing his sister, then suspiciously raising an eyebrow at Lance. “Everything alright?”  
  
“Everything’s fine!” she said brightly. “Lance was just, uh, answering a question for me.” She turned her attention to Hunk, who had been watching the faces of his three friends with mild amusement. “Did you need something, Hunk?”  
  
“Oh, I was just coming to find Lance. Keith asked me to remind him he’s got lookout duty.”  
  
Lance rolled his eyes a little bit and muttered something about “cracking the whip”, then excused himself with a “I was on my way there…”  
  
As he left, he could almost feel Matt glowering at him. He wondered if, when he had opened the door, Matt and Hunk had seen the faint redness coloring his cheeks and ears.  
  
He wondered if they had also spied the light blush that had appeared on Pidge’s cheeks before she had ducked into her washroom…  
  
_I mean, she wasn’t lying; I did come check on her to see if she was okay; and I guess I did manage to answer a question? And there’s nothing wrong with that!_ he thought as he climbed the mast to the crow’s nest. _Because we’re… friends._  
  
Completely unbidden, the thought of her crying while he held her close came to his mind; her small frame enveloped in his long arms. Idly, he considered how easy it could be to forget how petite she was; her character, the way she carried herself, her intelligence and wit… somehow made her seem more imposing. Awe-inspiring.  
  
_Amazing_, he thought. Even in her vulnerability… _She is amazing_.  
  
He cleared his throat as he looked out to the sea, scanning the horizon. _Nothing wrong with thinking that about a… about a friend,_ he thought. _…Right?_


	6. Savage Seas

**Chapter Six: Savage Seas**

Several hours later, the crew assembled near the helm. They gathered around Pidge, who held the Logbook open. She began to read.  
  
“The Nightmare Isles: a group of small islands, too small to be noted on most maps, located in the middle of the Windy Zone. While the islands in this stretch may look harmless, and in some cases, ideal, beware the vegetation. An unknown species of tree exists here, whose growth seems to be exclusively limited to these islands. These trees produce hallucinogenic spores. Due to the conditions surrounding this stretch of islands, the spores are blown out to sea constantly. If inhaled, the spores will cause their victim to hallucinate their worst fears. The greater the exposure to the spores, the stronger the hallucination.”  
  
“Is there any way to go around the islands? Perhaps avoid this challenge entirely?” Coran spoke up.  
  
“Anyone looking at the map alone would probably try that,” Keith spoke up. “And they might succeed in getting past the islands. But, if that were the route we were supposed to take, there would probably be more people finding their way to Torvlon.” He paused to pull the map out of his pocket, as well as the mapstone. He opened the map up, and set the mapstone on top of it. “I’ve watched the mapstone’s route several times now, and I noticed something. No matter where you place the stone, it always goes straight through the place where the islands should be… but then, it just stops, right next to this large, darker area.” As if on cue, the traversing mapstone paused in place on the map. “For some reason, it won’t go past that point.”  
  
“Do you think that might be the location of the second challenge?” Lance asked, squinting at the map as though to will it to tell them itself.  
  
Pidge and Keith exchanged a look. “That’s exactly what we think,” she answered.  
  
“So soon after the first?” Hunk asked nervously. “I kinda hoped we might have some time between challenges to, you know, regroup, get our bearings, plan for the next one?”  
  
“Coran? Is something wrong?” Allura interjected. “You’ve been staring at the spot the mapstone is pointing to since it stopped.”  
  
Coran continued to look ponderously at the spot in question as he answered. “There’s something… familiar about that location. I think I remember your father and I talking about it before, but… for the life of me, I cannot remember what was there!”  
  
Pidge flipped a few pages ahead and continued reading. “The Bank Channel is a test of a sailor’s valor that one must go through. If a crew has the fortitude to take on this challenge, they are worthy to reach the final guardian.” She frowned, and turned over a few more pages, as though checking for something. “Unfortunately, that’s all it said.”  
  
“So we’ll have to prepare ourselves for both,” Lotor said. “At least with the Nightmare Isles, Father was a little more helpful in his description. I wonder why he didn’t write more about the second challenge…”  
A light breeze ruffled through everyone’s hair just then, causing everyone to look up. On the horizon, they could see what appeared to be a couple islands, almost too small for a casual observer to notice.  
  
“Is that… Do you think that’s them?” Hunk said.  
  
Pidge pulled out the compass and consulted it. The needle wiggled around a bit, but did seem to agree with the ship's route. “That _does_ appear to be the direction we’re heading; so… it could be.”  
  
“So soon?” Hunk asked. “I thought we might have a little more time before we got there?”  
  
“It’s the Windy Zone,” Keith said. “Because of the winds’ unpredictability out here, it probably pushed us along faster than we realized.”  
  
“Then we'd better figure out our strategy quick,” warned Matt. “I don’t know about any of you, but I’m not interested in seeing any of my worst fears.”  
  
The crew dispersed, looking for anything they could use to block out the spores. Keith pulled a bandana out of his pocket, and tied it around his face as best he could, staying at the helm to make sure the ship didn’t drift off course. He watched as the islands grew ever closer, more of them appearing as the Verde drew near.  
  
Below deck, Hunk, Lance, and Pidge looked through the cargo hold.  
  
“There are blankets in the sleeping quarters; maybe that would work?” Lance asked.  
  
“Some of them are kind of thin, though,” said Pidge, “they might not block very many of the spores… but it’s better than nothing?”  
  
“Hey, guys, I found some burlap bags!” Hunk held up the brown material triumphantly. “We might have to fold them over a few times, but they might make an effective air filter.”  
  
“Seems a little more breathable than my blanket idea, too,” said Lance, taking one of the bags from Hunk.  
  
“Let’s go on and hand these out to the others; if we can think of something better, we’ll at least have these in place to buy some time.” Pidge took a few bags, and Hunk and Lance split up the others.  
  
“I’ll go take one to Keith,” said Hunk. “He’s probably trying to just use his bandana, anyway.” He climbed the stairs.  
  
Pidge stopped Lance just before he could follow. She took a deep breath. “You said you wanted me to tell you how I was feeling, and, I want you to know… I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little scared already. I think we’re going to be fine, though. But, well… even so, just be careful out there, okay?” Without waiting for his reply, she rushed up the stairs after Hunk.  
  
Lance wasn’t completely sure if his heart was beating a little bit faster due to the impending challenge, or for some other reason. After a moment, he also headed for the upper deck.  
  
He folded the burlap sack over several times, then pressed it against his nose and mouth just before stepping back outside.  
  
He was greeted with a moaning sound, almost akin to a wounded animal. Keeping the burlap in place, he looked around to see where the sound was coming from… and saw Hunk, huddled on the ground.  
  
“Hunk? Buddy? Are you alright?” He hurried over and gingerly placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder.   
  
Hunk startled and looked up at Lance, his eyes as round as saucers and his pupils contracted to a fine point. “No… No more! Not that! _Not that!_” He yelled, then ducked his head back down with his hands up as though protecting himself.  
  
Lance stepped back. _Oh no_… he thought, then noticed from his peripheral, trees. A lot closer than he thought they would be. _The Windy Zone must have picked up and got us here quicker than we thought._ He looked towards the helm and saw… no one.  
  
“Keith?” he called out. “Did you go below deck?”  
  
“_Lance! Get over here! Now!!_”   
  
Lance whipped around to see Keith, leaning over the railing at the forecastle. “What?! Keith! What are you doing?!” He ran for the railing.  
  
“They fell over! Over the side! The wind caught them and… and they’re down there!” He yelled. “We have to get them! Allura… Allura is drowning!” He started taking his coat off. “I don’t know where the others are, but… I’m going in!”  
  
“Wait, you can’t!” Lance said. He grabbed Keith by the arm and tried to pull him away from the rail. “I don’t see Allura down there! And who else are you looking for? Who else fell over?”  
  
“My dad,” Keith croaked, “and my mom. I don’t know where they are! WE HAVE TO HELP THEM!” He struggled to break free of Lance’s hold.  
  
“It’s the trees! You’ve breathed in some of the spores! None of this is real!”  
  
In a quick burst of strength, Keith wrested his arm away from Lance and made to jump.  
  
“NO!” Lance dropped his piece of burlap and tackled Keith away from the edge.  
  
As they hit the deck, Lance gasped and looked around for his makeshift filter. He saw it and reached for it, trying to keep a hold on the struggling helmsman. His fingers closed around the burlap just in time to hear a startled scream. His head shot up and he looked around wildly.  
  
“Pidge?!” He shot up and ran in the direction he thought the scream had come from. “Pidge, was that you? Where are you?” With dread, he looked towards the railing. “Oh, no. Oh, no no no…” he mumbled, running for the other side of the ship. “You didn’t… you didn’t, did you?!” He looked over the side, and thought he saw a small hand splash above the waves. “_PIDGE!_”  
  
Lance tore off his vest and threw it to the deck. “Hold on, Pidge! Please, just hold on!” He looked over the side of the railing again, trying to gage where he should dive. He thought he saw the same splashing hand again. “No time… just got to get down there!” He took a few steps back, and then ran for the railing.  
  
A tall figure seemed to hurl out of nowhere and crash into him, knocking them both to the ground.  
  
Lotor stood up and hauled Lance to his feet.   
  
“What? What are you…? No! We have to-”  
  
“Here,” Lotor slapped something wet across Lance’s face. “Breathe through this.” As Lance placed his hand on the object, which appeared to be a wet towel, Lotor continued. “What you think you’re seeing isn’t real. It’s a hallucination. You need to join the others below deck.”  
  
“What are you going to do?” Lance asked, feeling slightly clearer-headed.  
  
“I’m going to steer the ship.”  
  
Lance shook his head. “But… what about you?” He noticed something lacking in Lotor’s appearance. “Wait… where’s your towel?”  
  
Lotor’s expression was grim. “As it turns out… I don’t need one.” He gave Lance a little shove toward the stairs. “Now please, join the others. I’ll take care of things up here.”  
  
Lance begrudgingly accepted Lotor’s reassurances and went below deck. As he came into the crew’s quarters, he found the others sitting around the table, all with a wet towel covering the lower half of their faces, some looking a little more roughed up than others. Keith sat in a chair, seemingly refusing to make eye contact with anyone.  
Hunk and Pidge sat next to each other on the bench, their backs leaned together. Matt sat on the other side of Pidge; he, Allura, and Coran looking not much the worse for wear. He settled in on the bench next to Allura and Coran, who looked at him with concern.  
  
“Are you alright?” asked Allura, her voice slightly muffled by the towel.  
  
“Yeah, I am; I just had a little issue on deck,” he answered carefully. “How about you?”  
  
“We were actually fine; Lotor told us about his wet towel idea, so we were gathering and preparing them in the washroom before the spores overspread the ship. We managed to find Matt before he breathed any of them in; the rest posed a bit more of a challenge.”  
  
“Speaking of Lotor, how is he able to be out there without anything to stop the spores?” Lance asked.  
  
Allura and Coran traded a look, and seemed to reach a tacit decision. “Lotor isn’t as affected by the spores as the rest of us,” Allura started, “because his worst fears… unfortunately, already became reality.”  
  
The crew all looked up, their collective attention piqued. Coran continued, “You’ve all heard of the pirate captain Sendak; but not many people know how he became a pirate. You see, he had been one of Governor Zarkon’s most trusted subordinates, and commander of the ship Zarkon, his wife, Honerva, and Lotor would often take on journeys.   
  
“I don’t know exactly what led to it, but on one such journey, Sendak staged a mutiny. He took over Zarkon’s flagship, and instead of simply setting the governor and his family afloat in a rowboat, he…” Coran swallowed. “He murdered Zarkon and Honerva. Though Lotor was only 14 at the time, Sendak's crew thought it would be bad luck to kill a child, so he alone was sent out on a little boat. By some miracle, within a day’s time, Lotor was picked up by some fishermen, and was taken back to Daibazaal. In respect for Lotor’s wishes, the true nature of his parents’ deaths was never broadly publicized.”  
  
The silence hung in the air for a few minutes, before Pidge whispered, “That’s horrible…”   
  
“Horrible, yes,” Lotor cut in, “But in this case, helpful.” All eyes turned to him. “We’ve made it through the isles, and are now upwind of the spores. You should be fine to come back up top. In fact, I would recommend that you do; the next challenge appears to be very close.”  
  
__________________________________________________________  
  
“Didn’t you say that the name of the next challenge is the ‘Bank Channel’?” Hunk asked staring out ahead of the ship.  
  
“Yep,” said Pidge, staring at the same spot while turning pages in the Logbook.  
  
“I don’t know what a ‘Bank Channel’ is,” Lance moistened his lips nervously, “but that right there? That looks an awful lot like a whirlpool.”  
  
Maybe a few hundred feet ahead of them swirled a very large whirlpool, the sound of rushing water growing louder and louder. Just beyond it, what seemed an impossibly tall ridge of rock, rising perpendicular to the sea, and stretching outward as far as they could see.  
  
Coran gasped. “I’ve finally remembered!” he exclaimed. The crew took their eyes off the watery vortex and turned to him. “The name of the spot on the map! Alfor and I used to talk about it all the time; I always thought he was telling tales, though.”  
  
“What is it?” Allura asked, a mixture of curiosity and trepidation in her voice.  
  
“Bob’s Whirlpool,” Coran declared. “Said to be one of the largest whirlpools in existence, forever turning, and yet another reason to avoid this area of the map. If you get caught in its pull, your ship is in danger of capsizing, or being pulled under; if you are caught and try to get out of the whirlpool, you may be smashed into the sheer face of Plateau Island on its other side.” He clapped his hands together. “So! Any ideas on how we get past this guardian?”  
  
The ship drew nearer to the churning water, not yet caught in its pull. Keith stood at the helm, preparing to execute the whirlpool procedures he had learned in his sailing classes. Pidge flipped more frantically through the Logbook, looking for anything she could have missed.  
  
“Coran, when you and Alfor talked about Bob’s Whirlpool, did you ever talk about what should be done to get past it?” she asked hopefully.  
  
“Not really, no; actually, the Logbook has more to say about it than even we did.”  
  
“…which wasn't much to begin with…” Pidge muttered, staring hard at the Bank Channel pages as if willing them to reveal more information. “And why did the mapstone stop there? Maybe we’re supposed to land at Plateau Island?”  
  
“No good,” Coran disagreed. “Plateau Island doesn’t have any banks low enough for us to moor. It's named thus due to its entire perimeter being nothing but steep precipice!”  
  
“Hang on to something!” Keith yelled. The ship lurched as the pull of the water suddenly drew them in. Everyone lunged for something solid to hold onto as the Verde tilted. Keith shifted the rudder to turn the ship in the direction of the whirlpool’s rotation. “I could use a hand!” he grunted.  
  
“On it!” answered Lance, making his way over to the helm. He took the rudder from Keith, who stepped back over to the ship’s wheel.  
“Pidge! Any ideas yet?” Keith called.  
  
Pidge scuttled over to the helm and sat down, propping herself against the side of the wall. “Not yet,” she said. “All it says is it’s a ‘test of valor a sailor must go through’, and something about fortitude…”  
  
“Why would he even call it the ‘Bank Channel’?” Lance huffed, straining at the rudder as the wind picked up. “Didn’t Coran say Alfor already knew this place was called Bob’s Whirlpool? Wouldn’t Zarkon know that, too?”  
  
It was as though a lightbulb went on in Pidge’s head. “Keith! Zarkon was really straightforward in his description of the Nightmare Isles; what if it’s the same here? Is there anything you remember from your sailing classes that might make sense with what he’s written?”  
  
Keith shut his eyes. He grit his teeth in frustration. “I don’t know, I can’t… I can’t remember!” He thought back to his classes, the teacher’s lectures, and finally, Shiro’s practical lessons he had given him when he was younger. He could almost hear his adoptive brother’s voice: _Don’t lose your patience under pressure; just breathe and calm down, and you’ll be able to focus_.   
  
He took a deep breath, and let it out. _Patience… yields… focus…_ Keith’s eyes widened. “I know what to do!” he exclaimed. “Lance, we have to stop fighting the undercurrent. We need to go towards the center.”  
  
Lance gaped. “I’m sorry, _what?_”  
  
“Are you sure?” Pidge asked, less out of fright, more out of confirmation, looking up from the Logbook.  
  
“I know why the challenge was written that way! At least, I’m pretty sure…”  
  
“You’re only ‘pretty sure’?” Lance demanded.  
  
“I just need you to trust me!” Keith insisted. “If we keep fighting against a whirlpool this size, we’re going to capsize from the effort! There _is_ another way!”  
  
Pidge and Lance exchanged a look and seemed to come to a quick agreement. They both nodded at Keith.  
  
“I really hope you’re right!” Lance adjusted the rudder at Keith’s direction, and the boat began its descent towards the center of the vortex.  
  
“You and me both…” Keith breathed as he angled the wheel to hold the ship steady.  
  
Hunk came charging up the deck. “Are you guys okay up here? The ship suddenly changed direction! It feels like we’re being pulled toward the center.”   
  
“Yes, that’s the idea,” Lance panted, struggling to steady the tiller.  
  
“What?! You can’t be serious!”   
  
“Keith’s idea…” Lance grimaced as the water’s insistent undertow threatened to shake him from his post.  
  
Pidge pulled her way to her feet and tucked the Logbook into her small satchel. She grabbed the tiller to steady herself and addressed the crew. “Hunk! You and the others need to drop the sails! And hurry… we don’t have much time!”  
  
Whether it was the certainty in her command, or the trust he had in Keith’s abilities at the helm, or being seized with the feeling that doing something would distract him from impending watery doom, Hunk straightened up and resolutely saluted. “Aye aye, Captain!” He motioned for the others to come help, and went about his duty.  
  
“Let me give you a hand with that,” Pidge said to Lance, planting her feet and tightening her grip on the tiller.  
  
“Thanks,” he said appreciatively.  
  
“Alright, everyone; once more, grab onto something!” Keith shouted out the warning as the Verde approached the center.  
  
The center of the whirlpool was much bigger than it had seemed from its outskirts. As the boat was pulled up next to the swirling water at the center, Keith looked into the gaping maw of Bob’s Whirlpool. He took a deep breath, then gave the wheel a sharp turn, banking the Leonessa Verde into the center.  
  
For a brief moment, their ship seemed to be levitating. Almost as suddenly, the hull splashed back down into the water and took off at an incredible speed. Keith stared ahead of them, occasionally calling out directions to Lance and Pidge to better steady the rudder. The rest of the crew held fast to whatever they had grabbed to anchor themselves to the boat, and couldn’t help but look around in wonder.  
  
The water arced overhead and beneath them, creating an unlikely tunnel.  
  
“Whoa.” Lance sighed in awe. “Never in my life would I have imagined something like this existed. This is-”  
  
“A _channel!_” Pidge cried in amazement. “It’s a literal description! You have to bank your boat to go into the channel; and the sailors who do are _actually_ ‘going through’ the challenge!” She practically crowed with laughter. “I can’t believe the answer was in front of us the entire time!”  
  
“How long do you think we’ll be in here?” Lance asked.  
  
“Not much longer!” Keith said, pointing. “Look there!”  
  
Their eyes followed Keith’s gesture to a dot of light that was growing larger with every second. Not a minute later, the spiraling water propelled the ship up through a thin curtain of water.  
  
“Brace yourselves!” Keith shouted, wrapping his arms around the ship’s wheel.  
  
Lance and Pidge both gripped the tiller tightly, but as the ship flew through the air, one of Pidge’s hands shot out and grabbed Lance’s hand. His fingers encircled hers, and they held on to each other as the Verde splashed down.  
  
The ship skidded forward, plowing waves that fanned out magnificently as the bow split the water. At last, they slowed to a stop.  
  
The crew began pulling themselves to their feet. Lance, still grasping Pidge’s hand, helped her up. She took her hand back, and made to dust her pants off. “Um… thanks,” she said, wondering how, after everything, she could still feel a little shy around him.   
  
“No problem,” said Lance, rubbing the back of his neck. “So…”  
  
They were interrupted by a loud “Whoop!” sound coming from Keith’s direction. They looked over to see Hunk and Allura, the former clapping Keith on the back and exclaiming, “That was _insane!_ I can’t believe that actually worked!”  
  
“How on earth did you think to steer into the whirlpool?” Allura asked.  
  
“Just a hunch,” he said. “When Pidge mentioned that Zarkon had been straightforward in his writing before, I just thought about how I would write about a challenge without mincing words. It just seemed to make sense, I guess.”  
  
Allura laughed, both in disbelief and relief. “You’re a genius!” she cried, flinging her arms around his neck. “Completely mad, but a genius!”  
  
Keith, taken aback by her sudden gesture, froze for a moment, then hesitantly returned her hug, awkwardly patting her on the back a couple times. “Heh… yeah, uh, thanks,” he stammered.  
  
A moment later, Allura broke away, and smoothed her hair with a nervous giggle. Looking for a way to break the slight tension in the air, Lance looked around. “So… any idea where we are?”  
  
Pidge looked up and scanned their surroundings. It appeared they were in a much different location than before. Mountains rose up behind them, and seemed to stretch in a vast boundary out as far as she could see. _I didn’t think we were in the channel for that long…_ she thought, trying to reason where the ridge came from. Her eyes widened with sudden realization. “Coran… did you say no one had ever been able to land and explore Plateau Island?”  
  
“That’s right,” Coran confirmed. “Nothing but vertical rock, all the way around. Something of a natural phenomenon! It’s completely uncharted.”  
  
“Well… I’m not so sure it’s actually an island…”   
  
At her words, everyone looked around them, mouths dropping open and eyebrows raising in various expressions of incredulity and wonder.  
  
“No wonder so few people have actually succeeded in finding Torvlon,” said Hunk.  
  
“Speaking of that, maybe we should take a look at the map again,” said Pidge.  
  
Keith spread the map back out and placed the mapstone on top. Once again, the mapstone passed through the Nightmare Isles, then came to Bob’s Whirlpool and stopped.  
  
“Huh.” Pidge glared at the map.   
  
“I thought the mapstone was supposed to guide us?” asked Lance. “Is it… broken?”  
  
Allura looked mildly alarmed, but Keith picked it up and turned it over in his hand. “Looks exactly the same to me,” he said.  
  
“Maybe the mapstone was only meant to take us so far,” mused Hunk.  
  
“How do you mean?” asked Pidge.  
  
“Well, we just established that no one, at least no mapmaker, knows that Plateau Island isn’t actually a mysterious island; but the Torvlonians had to have known, right? And if they ever had to leave for any reason, they would probably need to have something to help show them the way back, especially with a whirlpool as the only entry. So I was thinking: what if the mapstones weren’t meant to be used this close to home?”  
  
“But if the mapstone won’t show the rest of the way…” Pidge gasped. “The compass!”  
  
Keith pulled the little device from his pocket. “Hey! The needle isn’t shaking anymore!” He slowly turned in place, eyes glued to the compass’ face. “It’s pointing in a consistent direction!”  
  
“Raise the sails!” Pidge’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Time to get ready for the final challenge.”  
  
The crew dispersed to their duties, all talking animatedly. No one seemed to notice the slight movement coming from the shadows of Plateau Island’s inner mountains.  
  
________________________________________________  
  
“The final challenge to face is the ‘Pass of Oriande’. It is a narrow channel, set between two towering mountains that forms the gateway to the Torvlonian harbor. It is guarded by a beast. Do not try to go around the beast and through the Pass; the peaks of the mountains are constantly hidden by cloud cover, where ice forms during the night, and falls down into the pass during the day. To make it through the pass, you must deal with the beast; swift, safe passage will be granted for those who seek Torvlon.”  
  
“Well.” Hunk placed his hands on his hips as Pidge finished reading. “That sounds horrifying.”  
  
“Really? After diving into a whirlpool?” Matt asked, then grinned mischievously. “And facing your worst nightmare?”  
  
Hunk shuddered. “Okay, first of all, food should _never_ do _that_; that was the scariest moment of my life. Second of all, do we even have anything on this ship that could ‘deal with’ a _beast_? We don’t even know what kind of animal this is!”  
  
“Hunk has a point,” Pidge said thoughtfully, frowning at the words on the page.  
  
“Yes! Thank you, Pidge!”  
  
“It’s hard to know how to prepare ourselves for a beast we know next to nothing about,” she mused.   
  
“I think I saw a couple harpoons in the cargo hold,” Coran offered.  
  
“There should be at least a couple operational cannons,” Keith added.  
  
“That’s certainly better than nothing; let’s get those ready, just in case.”  
  
The discussion was interrupted by a thumping sound from the starboard side of the ship. Everyone froze in surprise. Cautiously, Lotor walked over to the rail and peered over the side. “I think we must be getting close to our destination…” At his words, the rest turned their attention to the water.   
  
At first, there only seemed to be random bits of wood floating atop the water; as they continued to look, though, larger chunks that looked like pieces of old boat came into view. The further they went, the more large pieces of debris they found: a ship’s graveyard.  
  
“Do you think this was the work of the beast?” Allura whispered nervously.  
  
“Hard to say; we’d better proceed carefully.” Pidge strode over to the forecastle and stared intently out past the bowsprit. How long had these boats been here? She scanned the horizon. Was any of this wreckage… recent?  
  
She wasn’t sure how long she had been standing there when what had to be the Pass of Oriande came into view. True to how the Logbook had described them, two steep mountains stretched so far into the sky that the tops seemed to disappear into the clouds. The mountains seemed to wrap around a smaller area of the sea. A narrow channel was just visible  
  
Lance, who had gone up to the crow’s nest to get a better look around, scurried down, spyglass in hand. “Say, Pidge, did the Logbook say anything about another island before we reach the Pass?”  
  
“No; why?”  
  
“I think you’d better take a look.” He passed her the spyglass, and she put it to her eye.   
  
Floating in front of the entrance a ways was a small, completely white island.  
  
“Huh… That’s weird,” said Pidge, putting the spyglass down. “You’d think the Logbook would have mentioned at least something about another island. Maybe it was on Trigel’s map?” She glanced up at Lance.   
  
His eyes were as round as saucers. Mouth slightly agape, he shook his head slightly. “I don’t think this would be on a map…” He pointed towards the island.  
  
Pidge turned her head hesitantly to see what had garnered such a reaction. She blinked a few times in surprise, her jaw working up and down as though trying to formulate words. Finally she managed, “Is that island… getting bigger?”  
  
“That’s no island.” Lance reached down and grabbed her hand almost instinctively. “Keith!” The two ran back to the helm, shouting for the others.  
  
“Lower the sails!” Pidge called out. “Keith, hard to port!”  
  
Without bothering to ask why, Keith turned the wheel hard, then steadied the rudder. The others ran for the rigging, attempting to slow the ship down.   
  
Pidge clutched the spyglass in her hand, no longer needing it to see what lay ahead of them, looming ever bigger.  
  
The white mass continued to rise from the water until all were able to clearly tell what kind of beast it was the Logbook had referred to.  
  
“It’s a WHAAAAALE!” Hunk exclaimed.  
  
A completely white whale, enormous, and covered in scars with bits and pieces of projectile stuck and broken off in its sides, lay in front of them.   
  
“We’re coming right up to it!”  
  
“Hold on!” Keith held onto the wheel, and the ship continued to veer towards the side of the whale.  
  
Everyone flinched, expecting the whale to add the Leonessa Verde to the ship’s graveyard.  
  
A moment passed, and the whale continued to sit where it had breached the surface.  
  
“It’s… not doing anything,” Hunk looked puzzled. The beast floated in place, surveying their ship out of one of its great eyes, but did not charge them, or do anything in particular to block the pass. “Do you think it’s taking a break from guard duty?”  
  
“Maybe we don’t have to do anything?” Lance said hopefully. “Maybe we’ve already been granted passage?”  
  
“I don’t think that’s it,” Lotor said, pointing towards the Pass. “Look.”  
  
Ahead of them, they saw a large chunk of ice fall into the Pass, then sink below the waves. Another fell a few feet away from the first. Because of the dense clouds, it was impossible to tell where or when the ice would be falling. If they tried to sail through the Pass, it was more than likely the Verde would be taken out by the ice.  
  
“…So what do we do?” asked Allura. “It’s obvious we can’t fight the creature; it looks like others have tried and failed.”  
  
Pidge had lost count of how many times she had scanned through the Logbook pages. “I don’t know… I mean, it’s possible I could have mistranslated something…”  
  
“Maybe it’s not about fighting.” Lance was looking at the whale curiously. “I mean, think about it; if the Torvlonians had to defeat or kill a guardian creature every time they needed to come home… that just doesn’t make sense.” He turned to Pidge. “Also, you told us the stories about the Torvlonian treasure said it was ‘life-giving’; if that’s true, why would they make it so you have to take a life to find it?”  
  
Pidge stared at him in surprise. “You’re right!” she said.  
  
He smirked. “You don’t have to seem so shocked about it.” He turned back to the whale. “Anyway, it doesn’t look like this guy is here to attack us. I spent a lot of time around the animals on our farm, though, given, none of them were this big or this… aquatic… but, if an animal is going to be aggressive toward something that it thinks is an enemy, it usually has a tell. And this whale? Seems totally relaxed. It knows it’s in control of the situation.”  
  
Pidge considered this for a moment, then said, “Well… what do you think we should do?”  
  
“The book said we had to deal with the beast, right? What if we just need to talk to it?”  
  
“It’s a giant whale, Lance.”  
  
He shrugged. “What’s the harm in trying?”  
  
“Okay, let’s imagine I decide to try your idea; what would I even say? Is there a pass phrase or something? There wasn’t one… mentioned…” she paused, as though remembering something. She flipped the Logbook back open and hurriedly read the page about the third challenge. “Oh…” she breathed.  
  
She closed the Logbook and put it away, then gingerly approached the whale. She looked into its huge eye, and stood up straight. She swallowed, then spoke.   
  
“Hello, Mr. Whale. Um… nice weather we’re having today,” she started. The giant eye blinked slowly. “Anyway, we’re trying to get through the Pass, and, um…” she cleared her throat. “We seek Torvlon.”  
  
The whale blinked its eye again, then began to sink below the water.  
  
“Wait! What?” she said.  
  
“Where’s it going?” Hunk asked.  
  
“Maybe that wasn’t the right pass phrase.”  
“Guys… hold on to something!” Lance cautioned them, moving away from the side of the boat he had been looking over.   
  
A few feet away, the whale broke the surface of the water, opened its mouth, and scooped the Leonessa Verde into its enormous maw. Then, it dove beneath the water, heading for the Pass.  
  
A few moments later, the whale emerged on the other side, resurfaced, and came to a slow halt. It opened its mouth again, and pushed the ship out, not seeming to mind the high-pitched sound emanating from the deck of the Verde. Apparently satisfied that it had completed its duties, it sank beneath the surface and disappeared.  
  
“Hunk, Matt… It’s okay, now. We’re back outside. Everything is okay,” Pidge tried to reassure them.  
  
The two men stood shoulder to shoulder, gripping each other by the forearms, and still looking upwards in shock as if expecting the whale to come back and change its mind.  
  
“….AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Hunk finished.  
  
“We! Were inside! The mouth of a whale!” Matt exclaimed, somewhere between alarmed and incredulous. “…_WHAT?!_”  
  
“That!” Hunk wheezed, “That was at least the second most terrifying thing I’ve seen this trip!”  
  
“Just calm down, Hunk,” Pidge intoned. “The whale is gone now, you can stop worrying.”  
  
“Um… you know,” Lance said, “You can relax, too, Pidge.”  
  
“Huh?” Pidge said, wondering idly why Lance sounded so close. “What do you- oh.” Her face warmed. It appeared that, at some point during the whale’s passage, her nerves had driven her to throw her arms around him. He seemed to have wrapped an arm around her shoulder as well.  
  
She pulled her arms back to her own sides and stiffly coughed into her fist a couple times. “Heh… sorry about that.”  
  
Lance shrugged and shook his head, a small smile playing at his lips. “No need to apologize.”  
  
Pidge was about to say something else, when a sight in her peripheral caught her attention. “Oh my…” she breathed, turning herself fully to get a better look at it. “That’s it! We made it! We _actually_ made it!”  
  
An island that seemed to connect with the surrounding mountain pass lay ahead of them. As she gazed upon it, her eyes began to mist. “We’re finally here… Torvlon.”


End file.
